#and when wen ning put his arm around him
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@fengxinwifutobecalled it turned out to be a long oneshot.
Jealous Lan Wangji x Reader
It was years ago (even a couple of years before the presence of WWX at Gusu) when Lan Wangji first saw you at Cloud Recesses.
He or almost all at Gusu didn’t know where you were from or anything about you except your name was Y/N but one thing was sure that you didn’t look like you were from anywhere around.
There were strange gossips those days that Lan Qiren found you lost in the forest , you were from a strange land and was not even familiar with language at Gusu.
Anyway, It wasn’t Lan Wangji business to get to know you or at least he thought so back then.
Then his uncle wanted Lan Wangji to teach you some basics of language and rules at Cloud Recesses.
Lan Wangji didn’t argue why he has to teach you , when you could have been sent to a class with kids (even though he assumed that you were around his age) but he just accepted the task.
You didn’t seem to be a quick learner as you pissed off Lan Wangji often by forgetting stuff he just taught, but fortunately he didn’t give up and you made him proud when finally nailed writing down a Cloud Recesses rule one day.
Once you found Lan Wangji was fond of rabbits and you always drew a rabbit under every assignment given by him earning a slight smile which was unsual
Another day you saw Lan Wangji he was staring at Gentian House in dismay and you presented him a wooden amulet carved in the shaped of a rabbit .
He widened his eyes . He knew that you did not know anything about his mother or any of his regrets yet sensed some grief in him.
Somehow it made his heart warm but he was slow to show it on his face.
Two years passed and Lan Wangji felt it didn’t matter who thought how strange or flawed you were but your simple gestures put him on much ease.
However, he didn’t know to how much he cherished your attention until one day
A batch of new students from different clans arrived at Cloud Recesses.
These curious students figured Lan Wangji was an ice prince since the day they had arrived but Yunmeng Jiang clan students especially Wei Wuxian never stopped annoying him.
First Wei Wuxian found Lan Wangji was similar to a private tutor to someone called Y/N who came to Cloud Recesses from a distant land and no new student had seen you yet.
Wei Wuxian was naturally curious of what you were like and dragged unwilling Jiang Cheng along with him to find you.
They saw someone who was looking outlandish in the library and Wei Wuxian immediately asked “So are you the secret disciple of Cloud Recesses?”
You startled by the sudden voice and few books fell from your hand . Wei Wuxian giggled.
Jiang Cheng nudged him and turned to you “Apologies. We are Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian from Yunmeng Jiang clan. Are you Y/N? ”
“Yes” you nodded.
“Don’t you like to meet new people at Cloud Recesses or are you waiting for someone?” Wei Wuxian winked .
You froze . Did he know that you have a huge crush on Lan Wangji ? But this stranger hadn’t even spent a week at Cloud Recesses yet.
“Let’s go” while you were lost in thoughts Wei Wuxian dragged you to where some students including Wen Ning, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Yanli were getting ready to go for a stroll.
He introduced you to them and started asking random questions while walking.
“is Lan Zhan cold to you?” Wei Wuxian asked.
“He is haughty and hot tempered what else ? Isn’t it Y/N?” Jiang Cheng added.
You smiled “ No. He is not haughty. I think …”
“Bahaha” Wei Wuxian bursted into laughter. “No haughty…not haughty… haha a good one”
Accidentally, his arm clashed your shoulder and you lost your balance but luckily, Jiang Cheng threw his arm around your shoulder to prevent falling down.
Suddenly, everyone went silent and stopped walking. It seemed that they were looking at someone in front. As soon as you looked up you saw fuming Lan Wangji .
“Let go” Lan Wangji glared at Jiang Cheng whose arm was around your shoulder.
“I was just helping.” Jiang Cheng instantly retreated.
Lan Wangji turned to you “Y/N” he said strenly. “Bunking classes is not allowed”
Your avoided his eyes and looked down. Lan Wangji turned around after glaring at everyone.
Before he walked off while you were following him.“He likes drama doesn’t he?” Wei Wuxian mumbled to Nie Huaisang “Hmm why care about a little hug that much when he is not even Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nie Huaisang whispered back and it was overheard by Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji turned back in arrow speed wielding Bichen and its blade stopped almost touching Nie Huaisang’s chest.
His furious eyes expressed “back off. It’s none of your business” and before others recovered from gasping he withdrew Bichen and strode off.
You had to run behind him to the library where Lan Wangji used to conduct classes for you.
Lan Wangji stood next to his seat but glare in his eyes had not yet left him.
“I’m sorry” fear that Lan Wangji would hate you enough to shut you off from his life teared your eyes.
“Write! No skipping classes 50 times” Lan Wangji said harshly.
Writing usually took much effort and time of you so you thought to hand over yesterday’s assignment to Lan Wangji before you started your punishment.
You slowly walked to him to handover your assignment and went to a far end corner of the library. Lan Wangji looked over it and saw the rabbit drawn by you for Lan Wangji in a separate paper.
He instantly grabbed a book from his desk and made his way to where you headed .
As you didn’t not have new papers to write you had to get some but new papers were stored in the top of a book shelf.
You weren’t a tall disciple and when no one was around it was your secret to grab a stool and climbed on it to grab books or papers from top of book shelves.
You didn’t expect Lan Wangji to follow you and when he appeared behind you were already standing on the stool.
“You made a boyfriend?”
You startled by his presence and almost fell from the stool but in the nick of time Lan Wangji caught you lightly by your waist and twirled you to face him.
“Jiang Cheng” Lan Wangji spoke bitterly as his face was still tinted with anger. You confused . Was it because Lan Wangji saw Jiang Cheng’s arm around your shoulder? Did he care?
“N..No” you muttered nervously.
“Mn” Lan Wangji uttered and released one of his hands from your waist to present the book that he was carrying.
You opened it to found that it was consisted of all rabbits that you have drawn for him.
“Lan…Lan Zhan you kept them all?” You could not hide your adoration for his man.
“Mn” pushing you against the book shelf and Lan Wangji tightening the grip on your waist.
His stunning face made his way to you at brisk, connecting his soft lips with yours.
Your mind went blank as Lan Wangji’s stole your first ever kiss.
From your lips Lan Wangji Next moved to your neck “Lan..Lan Zhan” you moaned hugging Lan Wangji, when he was marking your skin.
“Mn” Lan Wangji hummed as he caressed your shoulder like if it was the way he untainted the touch of Jiang Cheng.
Suddenly, some footsteps were heard beyond indicating you were still in a public place. “Baobei … Jingshi” Lan Wangji whispered in a husky voice before escorting you to Jingshi through a different passage to continue rest of love making.
#mdzs#the untamed#mdzs fanfiction#mo dao zu shi#lan wangji#mdzs x reader#mdzs lwj#lan zhan x reader#lwj#the untamed lwj
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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 39 part one
(Masterpost) (Pinboard) (whole thing on AO3)
Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
Fight Exposition Club
Wei Wuxian hollers into the smoke, saying things to provoke Xue Yang, in the hopes that he’ll come fight properly, so Lan Wangji can shank him. Wei Wuxian is figuring out a new way to be a battle couple with Lan Wangji. Without flinging a lot of yin energy around he can’t fight back-to-back with him like they did during the Sunshot campaign, but he can use his mastery of tactics to bring enemies into range of Lan Wangji’s sword arm.
Xue Yang repeatedly sneaks up on Wei Wuxian, rolling natural 20s on his stealth checks even when he’s in extremely plain sight.
Come on, Wei Wuxian. Try harder.
They trade trash talk and Wei Wuxian points his flute a lot while Xue Yang tilts his head a lot.
(More after the cut!)
This scene is tedious but it does give Xue Yang a chance to explain his motivations and philosophy. Why do we need to know? Because he’s here to provide a contrast to Wei Wuxian. Notably, he says, of his massacre of the Chang clan, “since I want to kill that whole family in Yueyang, then I wouldn’t even leave their dog alive.”
As we get to know Xue Yang, he seems to be into murdering entire clans, and it’s easy to assume he picks them at random. But in fact, his killing of the Chang clan was his revenge for a grievance, and he waited until he earned Wen Ruohan’s permission before he embarked on his massacre. He’s not an uncontrolled spree murderer, despite talking and preening like one. His killing of Song Lan’s sect was also revenge for a grievance.
The problem with Xue Yang’s murderous tendencies isn’t that they are uncontrolled or random; it’s that he has no sense of proportion, and no mercy. Contrast this with Wei Wuxian, who went on his own revenge-driven killing spree, but even as he massacred the Wens at their corporate offices, he left Wen Qing alive. And once he’d killed those directly responsible for the massacre of the Jiang clan, he turned to actively saving other Wens.
Active Listening
Meanwhile, Lan Wangji’s fight coordinator is on a smoke break, so Lan Wangji has nothing to do for several minutes except turn around trying to see or hear something through the fog. He keep this move fresh by executing it in as many different ways as possible.
You’ve got the head turn with hair flip...
the “eyes first” head turn...
the fast head turn...
and the body turn while the head stays put.
Nailed It
After conversing through the mist for a while, Xue Yang decides he’s going to try to stick nails in Wei Wuxian, like those he used on Song Lan.
Wei Wuxian’s fight coordinator is taking a nap, so he just stands there helplessly while the nails come straight at him. Fortunately Wen Ning has some moves prepped, and he comes sailing in -- flying faster than two metal projectiles, which is a neat trick -- to intercept the nails.
He squeezes them to make sure they’re dead, and drops them as dramatically as possible.
Wei Wuxian gets in on the head-turning action for a bit, until he figures out that A-Qing is helping them.
A-Qing is even better at listening than Lan Wangji is, and she knocks her stick on the ground when Xue Yang is near her.
This allows Lan Wangji to throw Bichen right through Xue Yang’s chest.
Unfortunately, Xue Yang is busily stabbing A-Qing in the heart already.
Wei Wuxian runs over to A-Qing, but he’s too late...since she’s not a cultivator, the wound is fatal.
If you find the low camera angle and the lens distortion here familiar, there’s a reason for that.
Actually, the whole situation is familiar, isn’t it?
Right down to the white clothes and the pierced heart.
Sigh. At least A-Qing’s death was part of her own fight with Xue Yang, not someone else’s story. She put herself in harm’s way to use Lan Wangji as her weapon.
Lay Down Your Arms
Speaking of pierced hearts, I feel like Xue Yang’s chest wound should be bleeding at least as much as his mouth is bleeding, but what do I know?
Xue Yang goes to attack Wei Wuxian, hollering as he does it. At least I think he’s targeting WWX; the blocking in this scene is confusing. Anyway, this gives Lan Wangji the opportunity to do the greatest fight move of his entire career.
He throws Bichen at Xue Yang, severing his arm in such a way that the arm spins around and hits Xue Yang with his own sword.
Fuck Yeah Hanguang-Jun!
Note: if you like Xue Yang’s fight scenes as much as I do, check out my fanvid over here.
Now I’ve Gotta Turn My Back on You
Once Xue Yang is unable to fight, Su-She-in-a-mask appears, initially trying to rescue him.
Su She goes to grab XY’s shoulder to teleport him out out there, but Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji react simultaneously, throwing a talisman (WWX) and Bichen (LWJ) at his hand, forcing him to let go.
So he yoinks the Yin Tiger Seal from Xue Yang’s vest pocket and them bamfs himself away, leaving Xue Yang to his fate.
Xue Yang takes a moment to contemplate how well and truly fucked he is.
Then he cackles gleefully, since that’s his response to anyone having a terrible day, including himself, apparently.
This inspires Song Lan to finish pulling himself together so that he can finish Xue Yang.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji leave him to it instead of sticking around to make sure XY is really dead this time. Remarkably, this does not result in a miraculous escape for Xue Yang, and Song Lan stabs him, mortally wounding him.
Then, as Xue Yang lies bleeding out in the road, the show pulls an amazing switcharoo, giving us Xue Yang's perspective on the events leading up to his death, explaining his perspective and giving new depth to his character. Still evil, still an asshole, but also a victim, with a temperament formed by trauma and injustice.
Flashback Time
Flashback-Xue-Yang tells Flashback-Xiao-Xingchen what he’s done. First we get him gloating as he explains what he’s done to XXC.
Then he explains why. We circle around and around until we arrive at his central trauma: the encounter with Sect Leader Chang that cost him his finger and turned him into a vengeance machine.
When he was busy carrying out his long-planned revenge on the Chang clan, Xiao Xingchen interrupted him, with Song Lan’s help, so he extended his revenge plan to include them. And because he has no sense of proportion, he wasn’t content with killing them; he wanted to destroy them, particularly Xiao Xingchen, whose idealism deeply offends Xue Yang.
Everything he did to Xiao Xingchen was basically an elaborate way of saying, “the world is worse than you believe it to be.”
His plan comes to fruition when he tells Xiao Xingchen everything he has done to him, culminating in showing him what they - together - have done to Song Lan.
Unfortunately it works too well, because Xiao Xingchen is so horrified and disillusioned that he cuts his own throat, falling dead while Xue Yang watches in horror.
Song Lan’s tiny, perplexed reaction to Xiao Xingchen’s death--the first thing he’s reacted to since losing his fight with Xue Yang--always breaks my heart.
Then things get really weird. Xue Yang is determined to resurrect Xiao Xingchen, following the same protocols that Wei Wuxian developed for reviving Wen Ning. But his version is way, way creepier.
Initially his plan is to add Xiao Xingchen to his collection of fierce corpses, because the dead are easier to control. But as time passes and XXC fails to wake up, Xue Yang becomes more and more distraught, showing what looks like a genuine attachment to Xiao Xingchen.
This doesn’t make him less of an abuser, but it does make him a lot more interesting and complex of a character.
As the flashback ends, Xue Yang’s last thought is about Xiao Xingchen giving him candy, simply out of the kindness of his heart.
Ultimately, Xiao Xingchen teaches him, at the very end of his life, that the world is--slightly--better than Xue Yang believed it to be.
The Point of It All
Of the many parallels we see in Yi City, the arc of Xue Yang’s life compared with the arc of Wei Wuxian’s is particularly important.
They each have similar talents; they each had similar beginnings. But Wei Wuxian has a kind heart and a yearning for justice, while Xue Yang is relentlessly cruel and cynical. Why?
The answer, I think, is this guy:
When Xue Yang was a hungry street urchin, he encountered Sect Leader Chang, who reviled him, beat him, and grievously injured him, setting him on the path of vengeance, murder and mayhem. When Wei Wuxian was a hungry street urchin, he encountered Sect Leader Jiang, who fed him, elevated him to a high status, and taught him, by example, to value and protect the weak.
Xue Yang responded by wiping out every member of the Chang clan. Wei Wuxian responded by tearing himself apart in order to ensure the continuation of the Jiang clan, as well as becoming the hero of the Sunshot campaign, a champion for the weak, and the cultivation partner of the most righteous dude in the Jianghu.
Jiang Fengmian wasn’t a good parent (understatement), but he was a pretty good sect leader, and at a crucial moment, he chose kindness. That moment ripples outward through families and sects, across generations, into the wider society. How a man chooses to interact with a hungry child can ultimately shape the entire world.
...damn it, Yi City, you made me appreciate Jiang Fengmian!
#the untamed#the untamed gifs#restless rewatch the untamed#ep39#canary3d-original#that's rough buddy
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Hi, I love all your fics and adored the one with fem!Wei Wuxian who seems even more of a chaos goblin than her canon counterpart and tries to break apart her engagement to LWJ. Could we see some more of what of what happens after LWJ moves into the Burial Mounds, perhaps how Wen Qing realizes that this man is hopelessly in love with his oblivious fiancee and maybe tries to prod them together (bonus points for LWJ being so obvious Wen Ning, Granny and the rest of the Wens notice XD).
"They need a chaperone."
"They don't need a chaperone."
"They do," Popo insists, watching with enormous eyes as Lan Wangji glides up to Wei Wuxian and offers—for what must be the eleventh time that week—to take over her chores in the vegetable field, presumably so that Wei Wuxian can spend her time improving the wards around the Burial Mounds instead. "Oh, good heavens. I'm nearly eighty years old, and I've never seen a man looking at a maiden like that."
"Be that as it may," Wen Qing says doggedly, "they have no need of a chaperone. Wei Wuxian ended their engagement before she seceded from the Jiang clan, and neither she nor Hanguang-jun chose the betrothal to begin with."
"They don't need a chaperone because Wei-guniang doesn't know that Hanguang-jun is in love with her," Wen Ning mutters, from the grimy depths of the lotus pond at Wen Qing's right. "When Lan-zongzhu visited last week, he told me that Hanguang-jun cried like a baby after Wei-guniang refused to marry him. I think she likes him, too, but she doesn't seem affected at all."
Two tiny fingers pluck at Wen Qing's skirt, and she glances down to find Wen Yuan trying to stand on her shoes, grasping a fold of her gown in one hand and a grubby stuffed tiger in the other.
"What is it, A-Yuan?" she asks. "Are you hungry? Xian-jiejie will feed you in just a little while, so be patient until the congee finishes boiling."
"A-Yuan's not hungry," the little boy says, before putting Hu-shixiong's tail in his mouth. "But, jiejie—Lan-gege loves Xian-jie very much! Gege told A-Yuan!"
At this juncture, Wen Binbin materializes at Wen Qing's right with Uncles Three through Six trailing behind her.
"How long were they engaged, Qingqing?" she asks, in a conspiratorial whisper. "We never heard much news from the other sects in Dafan—but you and A-Ning went to school with them, so you must know something."
Wen Qing sighs.
"A-Xian's parents contracted the betrothal before they passed away," she replies, "but they didn't meet until the year Lan Wangji turned eleven."
Popo clasps her hands in delight. "Were they childhood friends, then?"
"Of a sort," Wen Qing acknowledges, frowning. "I once heard someone say that Hanguang-jun started sewing toy frogs for their future children when he was only a boy, but that can't possibly be true."
She feels another soft tug at her skirt. "Qing-jiejie, A-Yuan wants a frog."
"Hanguang-jun can make you one, Yuan'er. And the part about the frogs is true," A-Ning pipes up, tossing a seed-filled lotus pod to Wen Binbin. "She had one of them with her in the dungeon at Bu Ye Tian when I went to bring medicine to the prisoners during the indoctrination camp."
"Really?" Fourth Uncle gasps. "She carried Hanguang-jun's gifts all the way to Qishan, so that they could comfort her in her time of need?"
"Zewu-jun had better be thinking of a way to have the betrothal reinstated," Wen Qing says, crossing her arms in frustration. "Why did Wei Wuxian break it in the first place? Hanguang-jun would have honored the engagement no matter how the jianghu dared to slander her."
"I suppose that's why," Wen Ning says morosely. "She's afraid that Hanguang-jun will stand by her, no matter what she does—"
"A foolish thing to be frightened of, if you ask me," Wen Binbin mutters. "There are worse things in the world than a devoted husband."
"—and that he might suffer for it. It's difficult to tell, but she loves him just as much as he loves her."
At this, A-Yuan beams like a miniature sun and toddles over to the edge of the pond.
"Really, Ning-shushu?" he asks, enchanted. "Can Jiejie have a wedding?"
"I suppose she can, if Hanguang-jun asks for her hand in marriage again."
Fifth Uncle nods and strokes his chin. "But how can he muster up the courage to ask if Wei-guniang treats him so coldly?"
"I saw her sneaking a second helping of chicken into his porridge the other day," Liu-shu mutters. "If that is a cold woman, Langdan, then I've never met a tender-hearted one."
At this juncture, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji bow to one another and go their separate ways, having reached some kind of agreement about the wards and Wei Wuxian's daily chores. Wei Wuxian gathers up the powdered cinnabar she was sunning and retreats into the cave that serves as her workshop and bedchamber; and Lan Wangji goes off to fetch the laundry from the patch of grass by the potato field, where it had been hung up to dry early that morning.
The Wens disperse as well, not wishing to be caught gossiping in broad daylight by the very subject of their discussion. Popo takes Wen Yuan back to her little house for a bath, dragging A-Ning along with her; and Wen Qing dives into her little infirmary, leaving the door open a crack so that she can eavesdrop on the would-be couple if Lan Wangji seeks A-Xian out again.
And since Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun could not avoid one another if their lives depended on it, Wen Qing overhears them discussing the subject of A-Yuan's education less than a quarter-shichen later.
"After all of this is over, I suspect the Wens will be sent to the Cloud Recesses," Lan Wangji says quietly. "I do not think they would be at ease living in close proximity to Jiang-zongzhu, and Xiongzhang has set aside three living compounds for them close to his Hanshi. What is more, A-Yuan would be allowed all the privileges of an inner disciple if he were educated there—and he would not have to surrender his family name, either."
"You'd take him in as an inner disciple?" Wei Wuxian's voice is both louder and more indistinct than Hanguang-jun's, somehow, floating back to Wen Qing in bits and pieces as if it had passed through a veil of thick fog on the way. "I suppose that's for Popo and the others to decide if Zewu-jun has already made the offer, but what if the other disciples mistreat him? I won't stand for it, Lan Zhan."
"He will be my ward, since his parents have passed on: so that should be sufficient to keep him safe. And if you join the Wens in Gusu, Yuan'er will have your protection as well."
A moment's silence, and then:
"Do you mean to return to Lotus Pier when the Dafan clan is granted amnesty?" Hanguang-jun inquires, sounding positively heartbroken. "I—how will they go on without you, Wei Ying? A-Yuan scarcely leaves your side now that he is beginning to forget the horror of the camps, and Wen Ning—"
"I don't intend to go back to Yunmeng," Wei Wuxian says at length, after a pause that lasted the span of about seven perilously sluggish heartbeats. "My place is with the Wens now, I think. There should be someone at the Cloud Recesses who can guard them night and day, out of love for them and not under orders from you or Lan-zongzhu; so wherever they go, I will follow."
Though Wen Qing cannot see him, the soft, stricken pitch of Hanguang-jun's voice is proof that his heart had come very near to melting.
"En, that is good," he murmurs. "It is settled, then."
And with that, the two of them depart together, their footsteps fading away down the old dirt track that leads to Sishu's favorite apple grove.
They belong together, Wen Qing thinks fondly, before turning towards the heap of dried herbs awaiting her attention on her desk. And I pray that some day soon—Heaven willing—A-Xian will realize it, as well.
#wangxian#mo dao zu shi#mdzs#the untamed#fem!wwx au#my fic#@wangxian fandom here's a little something to tide you over until ao3 comes back online#also it's been almost a year since I last wrote for fem wwx au#pls reblog if you liked this hehe
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I will never get how some will read all the way through MDZS, get shown and told that all the lies based around Wei Wuxian were all untrue, and still tell themselves that Jiang Cheng was still wronged and his feelings are still "valid" by the end.
Jiang Cheng's feelings stopped being valid the moment he decided to be like his mother and choosing to hate people because that was easier than fixing the parts of him he disliked. It stopped being just a problem between his parents and him when he decided to use Wei Wuxian as a shield to name all of his wrongs to lash out against. You do not call someone just a support when you only use them as a scapegoat to say they are the reason for what you did not get in life. You do not call someone a friend or sibling and tell them they owe you for protecting them and then hold that protection over them as a price they have to buy into.
His story is tragic, but it stopped being empathetic when he dragged his projection of failings from just Wei Wuxian on to Lan Wangji and Wen Ning. He chose to project that his father and Wei Wuxian were playing favorites and always choosing someone else over him, when he himself did nothing to mature out of the angry sad child he had been. A child's feelings of being able to do nothing in the face of rocky parents fighting over control are valid. A grown man who continued to find a parental figure to rage against without ever bettering himself, is not.
Jiang Cheng got the ending he deserved because that was the effort he put into his bond with Wei Wuxian. You do not do the bare minimum and expect open arms after years of bitterness and hate that you created from your own insecurities and fed to the world. As an adult you do not continue to be hateful and expect unconditional love from the one you hurt constantly and belittle. Nor because you do one "good" action does it erase the pile of hate you put into the world and demand you are owed something from another. Forgiveness does not mean an opening to rekindle a relationship that is broken, it's just a door closing and sometimes it isn't ever going to be opened for you again.
You move on though and be yourself without excuses.
#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#canon jiang cheng#he doesn't need to be babied#because he was all his life and it did nothing to make him better
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In the 5 am light (you carry my fears as the heavens set fire)
Ficlet for the (currently) winning result of this poll!
I was too excited to write this to wait any more, but fear not, if the other one wins, I'll write that one too!
Enjoy! <3
Lan Wangji wakes up at 5 am, as he has always done for the past thirty-something years of his life, a routine engrained within him like second nature. But, unlike these past thirty-something years, he does not wake up alone to an empty bed - instead, there is now somebody sharing the space with him, their warmth mingling with his own, their limbs entangled with his.
Lan Wangji blinks himself conscious at the realization, and turns towards the person that's now softly snoring beside him.
Wei Ying.
The blanket has ridden off his body, the skin of his back bathed into the warm, morning sun, and through the long, messy tresses of hair, Lan Wangji can see bitemarks littering the skin of his nape and the side of his throat.
Slowly, memories return to him, and he remembers how he found Wei Ying in that forest a night ago, playing an improvised flute to subdue Wen Ning during that night hunt... playing that song, their song, singing his identity right into Lan Wangji's ears, straight through his heart and the shattered hopes of ever seeing his beloved again.
How Lan Wangji played into his lunatic act and pretended not to recognize him so that the ill-intentioned would not attack him, and how he carried him all the way to the Cloud Recesses with his noisy donkey and his audacious flirting that threatened to rip right into Lan Wangji's self control.
And how, right before bedtime, Wei Ying climbed into his bed and... everything that came after.
Lan Wangji feels himself burn hot at the images playing in his mind, at the things he and Wei Ying have just done, hours and hours of passion they shared last night until they had no choice but to succumb to exhaustion. He had never even dreamed of ever getting to touch Wei Ying like that, to be with him in such an intimate way - especially not after the world had so cruelly rid of him.
But he did, and it was... divine, to put it mildly, the zenith of his existence, the moment he was finally able to show the extent of his love to the person he had been so ready and willing to die for all those years ago. He feels like he's dreaming almost, floating in-between worlds, and he finds himself leaning close to Wei Ying and leaving the ghost of a kiss on his parted lips.
And just like that, under the soft morning light and the first notes of songbird, Lan Wangji's peace shatters, replaced with a mix of panic and revulsion.
Not towards Wei Ying, no, never - towards himself.
What has he done?
Thinking over last night's events, he realizes with increasing horror, Wei Ying was in an obviously vulnerable position, so of course he had... of course he had to follow Lan Wangji and... and try to... thank him. Go along with what Lan Wangji wanted... because if he didn't, maybe he thought he'd get left for dead or...
Lan Wangji feels his inside shudder with disgust. Had he... no, no, Wei Ying would have... he wouldn't have... would he?
Lan Wangji doesn't know if he wants to cuddle up to Wei Ying and find comfort and reassurance that he's overthinking in his arms, or jump out of the bed and out the door, as far away as possible, having taken advantage of someone that couldn't have possibly said no...
But the decision is made for him when he feels a surprisingly strong arm wrap tightly around his shoulders, and Wei Ying bringing him closer as he mumbles something along the lines of "Lan Zhan... stay still..." before pressing himself to the other's skin and falling back asleep.
Lan Wangji stays like that, motionless, barely breathing, staring at the ceiling. Wei Ying is... still asleep. But he did wake up to some extent just now, so he knows who he's in bed with. He hasn't... reacted in any unpleasant way, which can either mean he did want this and Lan Wangji is being ridiculous, or he didn't want it but he made peace with it now that it happened.
Both options appear equally likely to Lan Wangji.
Next to him, Wei Ying sleeps soundly, every now and then nosing at his neck and leaving tiny whispers and barely there kisses in his sleep.
Lan Wangji decides that, if he is, in fact, a horrible monster, he might as well be a horrible monster to the end. So he allows himself the luxury of slowly kissing over Wei Ying's hair, face and lips, eyes a little misty at the thought that, perhaps, when Wei Ying wakes, he'll hate Lan Wangji for what he'd done and never allow him close again.
He doesn't realize, in his emotional turmoil, that Wei Ying has been woken up in a flurry of loving kisses - not until he finds a pair of lips molding against his own with purpose.
He breaks the kiss away abruptly, and Wei Ying whines at the loss. He's still sleepy, eyes droopy, and he's beautiful and a bit love drunk - but the world catches up to him as well, his eyes going wide seconds later.
Lan Wangji looks away and sits up, ready to face the consequences of his own actions.
Wei Ying's mind fast forwards through the past night's events, he lifts the blanket enough to realize he's so very naked, thoroughly marked and very sore all over - and he sits up as well, as if actioned by a spring.
"Lan Zhan!"
"Mn."
"Last night!"
"Mm."
"Did we-?!"
"Mhm."
Wei Ying stares at him, and Lan Zhan stares back - he's so red, bunching up the blankets to hide his body like some blushing maiden as his eyes dart between the bed, himself and Lan Zhan like he can't believe the implications.
Lan Zhan feels the world crash into him the more Wei Ying's shock grows. So he'd been right, Wei Ying hadn't really wanted to do all that with him, and now he can't believe it and regrets it, and Lan Zhan is a horrible-
Then Wei Ying begins laughing. He's laughing with joy and he's fallen back onto the bed with it, the sound so melodious that Lan Wangji wants to bottle it up and keep it for himself forever.
"I can't believe we actually did that! I thought it was a dream!"
Lan Wangji lays down as well, and is feeling more confused than ever.
"Wei Ying, don't you... regret it?"
"Regret?! Are you kidding?! That was amazing, I'd have to be an idiot to regret something like that!"
But then Wei Ying's giggles cut off instantly, and he turns to face Lan Zhan. "Wait. Do you regret it?"
Lan Zhan huffs, offended, at that. "How could I? I've been wanting to do this forever."
Wei Ying seems to have a life-changing realization for the second time that morning and it is only upon seeing his wide eyes that Lan Zhan realizes what he's just said.
He doesn't regret it or anything, he had just imagine he would be saying it in more... romantic circumstances.
Eh, might as well...
"Did you... mean that?" Wei Ying asks, inching closer towards Lan Zhan, looking equal parts thrilled and terrified.
"Yes."
Wei Ying lifts a hand to trail over the sharp contours of Lan Zhan's jawline, briefly touching the plush of his lips. "So then what we did last night wasn't... just for the hell of it."
"No."
He's finally close enough to feel Lan Zhan's body heat against his own and his heart beats into his chest with exhilaration, arousal and adrenaline. "So if I were to kiss you right now and ask to do it again, you'd say yes?"
"I would."
Wei Ying finally allows his hands to move down Lan Wangji's collarbones, his chest, and lower, lower... "And if I were to ask if you'd like us to be together like this forever, would you say yes to that too?"
A sharp breath, and Lan Zhan pulls him in, skin to skin, loving and lustful. "I would." And he leans to leave a bite below Wei Ying's ear, his own wandering hands reaching destination. "I do."
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Time setting: Shortly after LWJ’s gift of earrings in GOM.
[Small playlist for this ficlet] - WC – 1052
No warnings, its very soft. Enjoy! ❤
.✦When I Grow Up - Ghost of Mine short
Wei Wuxian smiled as he carried Wen Yuan to bed, sighing as he tucked him into his covers. “My little radish…you can’t go running around at night, the spirits are active at this hour.”
Wen Yuan pouted and shook his head, continuing to hold onto the cultivator’s neck so he couldn’t be put to bed properly.
“What’s this?” Wei Wuxian laughed softly and pulled his arms away, looking at the boy with tired eyes as he distracted his little hands with his fingers. “Little radishes need to sleep, or how else will they grow up big and strong? There’s no sun at night, and i can’t plant you this late.”
Wen Yuan looked conflicted as he squeezed the other’s fingers. “A-Yuan… missed you.”
Wei Wuxian hesitated and his shoulders softened, a warm edge to his eyes. “Xian-Gege missed you too. But you have to rest, otherwise how will you be able to see the sunrise with me?”
“Xian-Gege never wakes up at sunrise.”
Wei Wuxian laughed and gently bopped the boy on the nose with his index finger. “Ah, my little radish is too smart to trick with promises of the sunrise, huh?” He gently pet the blanket over the boy, making sure he was snug. “Isn’t it nicer to enjoy the sunset with Qing-Jie, or your Ning-gege? They love you too. And are actually awake at that hour.”
“But…wanna be with Xian-gege.” Wen Yuan held the other’s hand, holding it to his face so he could hug it.
Wei Wuxian melted, letting out a quiet sigh. “I’ll be here. I won’t get up after you fall asleep.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Wen Yuan smiled and hugged the others face as Wei Wuxian leaned down, not letting him move away. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but to laugh, gently pulling his arms away again after a brief hug in return. “What can i do to convince you to sleep sooner?”
“Lullaby.” Wen Yuan beamed as if in victory, and Wei Wuxian smiled warmly in response.
“Alright.”
Wei Wuxian hummed quietly tones he remembered from that nostalgic sound, memories of something warm that swirled and fluttered in his stomach. he let the child fiddle with his fingers as he soothed the boy, his eyes crinkling subtly when the boy reached up to admire one of the hanging red jewels from his ears.
He shook his head slightly, the resentful energy making the little opals glow red and shimmer in the low light. He smiled as the little boy’s eyes widened in awe, little flecks of red fractals shimmering around the little boys fingers.
“A-Yuan wants to have one too…”
Wei Wuxian paused in his melody and sighed, “When you get a bit bigger. You could catch them on something when you go play at this age.”
Wen Yuan squirmed out of the covers to hug the man’s face again, and he couldn’t help but giggle when Wei Wuxian blew a raspberry on his tummy.
“Plus Qing-Jie has scary needles to pierce with, you need to mentally prepare for such barbarity,” He teased, kissing the boy’s cheek before laying him back down. “Now come on, you promised to sleep in exchange for a lullaby-” He paused as the boy tugged on his sleeve.
“Xian-gege?”
Wei Wuxian closed his eyes briefly and sighed, but came back with a smile again. “What is it, little radish?”
“I wanna grow up to be like you…”
Wei Wuxian hesitated, smile faltering for a moment. “Like me? Not like…someone else in your actual family?”
Wen Yuan shook his head, “I wanna grow up to be like you.” He smiled widely, hugging his covers. “You saved us, you never treated us bad, and you protect us! I love Xian-gege!” He paused, blinking as little drops fell on his cheeks. “Xian-gege?”
Wei Wuxian swallowed and sniffed quietly, hurrying to wipe his eyes. “Ah I'm alright, little radish.” He smiled again, even if it looked a little more red and damp. “You just remind me of the good in the world.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss the little boy’s head. “Xian-gege loves you, too. You can grow up and be whoever you want to be…my mother once told me something that i think would be good for you to remember as well.”
Wen Yuan perked up and nodded, holding onto the man’s fingers as he placed his hand over his little body.
“This world is a big, scary place. But it’s also the opposite.” He gently tucked the other in a little more. “It has so much love to give, and it's so much better to continue to put more good into this world instead of dwelling on whether you are even with another. You shouldn’t think about whether you owe them kindness.” Wei Wuxian spoke softly, “It took me many years to figure out what this meant as i grew older, but it stuck with me for my entire lifetime.”
“I’ll be the nicest!” Wen Yuan smiled, and a pang of familiarity bloomed in his chest. “I’ll be the nicest, and make Xian-Gege happy!”
Wei Wuxian laughed softly, warmth and ache bringing a little smile to his face. “How could you make me any happier?” He gently rubbed their noses together and hummed quietly, “I might have to get you mung bean cakes tomorrow to celebrate.” He whispered, hearing a little gasp from the boy.
“Promise?!”
“Promise. If you sleep.” He laughed softly as the boy hurried to cuddle into his blankets, closing his eyes and once again humming that familiar melody, but imagining the warmth of a sun through the green canopy of leaves. The sound of laughter and his mother’s voice with that gentle, summer breeze.
He loved being alive. He could remember that.
He loved the little joys of life. The times where there were no worries were beloved, but he had many little joys still in moments like this.
He hoped, at least, that he could pass on a little bit of that joy.
He certainly felt something as he watched the boy drift to sleep, gently caressing his thumb on the other’s little, rosy cheek.
With each note, this song imbued his loves and hopes.
Being alive was a joy.
Being loved was a joy.
He loved this world, despite its shortcomings.
He wanted to remember this feeling.
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I wrote bonuses the last two weeks if you missed it for between GOM 22 & 23 called "Softer than Clouds" and "Springtime in Gusu" for my Bunny hybrid AU "Sun's Out, Buns Out!" (mainly a gift to a friend tho). I hope it helps you guys hold out for the end of all this sadness. Also if you missed it, make sure you go read the chapter 24 update!
Check out more art of this/other MDZS Projects on my masterpost! ❤
#Ghost of Mine#When I Grow Up#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#the grandmaster of demonic cultivation#mo dao zu shi fanart#ghost wwx#wei wuxian#wei ying#wwx#a yuan#wen yuan#lan yuan#lan sizhui#ficlet#short#writing#snippet#blurb#dadxian
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#xiantober Day 24: Found Family
Wei Ying has never really had a home, a family. He had his parents who loved him for his first few years of life but they were taken from him. Then, he was alone, bouncing around the system until the Jiangs took him in.
It was better than before.
It wasn't good.
He was the foster kid, never adopted, allowed to stay. His foster siblings were loving in their own ways and Wei Ying chose to stay for them. He could have run away so many times like he had before, but he chose to stay.
It wasn't easy.
Then, the moment he turned 18, Madam Yu looked him in the eye and told him he was no longer welcome in their home, he was not a part of their family, and he needed to leave.
So, he did.
He found a cheap room to rent and finished highschool online so he could work more.
He saved up enough money and moved across the country for college.
His first-year roommate was a sweet, timid boy named Wen Ning. Wei Ying quickly attached himself to him and deemed him his best friend. The boy flustered easily and was shy but Wei Ying helped him grow confident.
Through Wen Ning, he met Wen Qing. They got along swimmingly and he had another friend. When the holidays came around, Wen Ning noticed Wei Ying had nowhere to go and invited him to their Granny's place over the break. He was reluctant to agree, not wanting to impose.
Wen Qing found out and practically scolded him for going.
There, he met Granny Wen, a whole slew of aunties and uncles, and the most precious baby in all the world: Wen Yuan.
Wen Yuan hugged Wei Ying's leg the moment he stepped into the small home and he knew he was done for.
The Wens welcomed him in warmly with open arms and Wei Ying couldn't help the way it pulled at him. They showed him care and love in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. They never expected anything of him, never talked of debts and owing. They were kind.
Wei Ying had a home.
Wei Ying had a family.
He took to spending a lot of time around Wen Yuan when he wasn't working or in class. The boy was the sweetest thing and Wei Ying melted every time he looked at that tiny adorable face.
Wen Yuan was an orphan just like him, but unlike him, he was loved.
Wei Ying swore to himself to never let Wen Yuan go without love, he would do everything in his power to support and protect this little boy.
On one of the days he was playing in the park with Wen Yuan, he noticed another boy from school. Wei Ying had seen him around before.
They shared a class in their first semester but Wei Ying never got the chance to talk to him. He'd always wanted to. He's seen how smart Lan Zhan is and thought they could be great friends if he had the chance.
Quickly picking Wen Yuan up, he ran over to Lan Zhan.
He called out to him and Lan Zhan stopped, turning to look at him with confusion. Wei Ying watched as his face suddenly softened at the sight of Wen Yuan in his arms.
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan said and Wei Ying smiled. He knew his name!
After that Wei Ying and Lan Zhan talked often.
Their friendship quickly blossomed and Wei Ying was over the moon at how intelligent and funny Lan Zhan was. He couldn't believe he was finally getting to befriend him.
A while later, Wei Ying invited Lan Zhan over to the Wens' home (at the behest of Granny Wen).
It was there, watching Lan Zhan quietly read to a sleepy Wen Yuan curled on his lap, that Wei Ying realized he had fallen in love with the man at some point. He didn't even see it happen. It was so quiet he didn't hear it.
It felt right.
Lan Zhan looked up at Wei Ying across the room with the softest expression when Wen Yuan finally dozed off, tiny hand gripping Lan Zhan's clothes. Wei Ying smiled at the pair of them and felt something settle inside of him.
Here, he is loved.
Here, he is safe.
They put Wen Yuan to bed and then Wei Ying took Lan Zhan by the hand and walked him out into the small backyard. The stars were out, watching over them as Wei Ying looked into Lan Zhan's eyes and confessed his feelings.
There, they kissed under the night sky.
Wei Ying was finally surrounded by warmth and love. He was wanted in multiple ways. He was so happy.
Finally, he had a family of his own. Sure, it was one he found and built himself, but it was real all the same.
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Link to thread
#xiantober#wangxian#mdzs#threadfic#mo dao zu shi#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#lan wangji#lan zhan#wei wuxian#wei ying#from twitter#wisedawn13#fanfic#fanfiction
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Sunflower Child
Fandom: MDZS/Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation/The Untamed
Characters: Lan Sizhui, Wen Ning, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji
Rating: G
Summary:
Most young witches, the ones who live with their birth families, know that they are witches before their magic manifests. Most young witches don’t learn they are witches by turning their skin purple while trying to bake cupcakes for their best friend’s birthday.
Lan Sizhui, as he is learning very quickly, is not most young witches.
Read on AO3
Written for this year's MDZS Secret Santa event!
Most young witches, the ones who live with their birth families, know that they are witches before their magic manifests. Most have watched their parents, or siblings, or aunts and uncles doing magic, just another facet of daily life. Many even have some rudimentary lessons when they’re young, so they know what and how to expect the day when their powers arrive.
Most young witches don’t learn they are witches by turning their skin purple while trying to bake cupcakes for their best friend’s birthday.
Lan Sizhui, as he is learning very quickly, is not most young witches.
He isn’t even the one who notices. When Sizhui’s a-die — a man of very few facial expressions for all he is a man of strong emotions — freezes in the doorway, eyes wide, and calls, “Wei Ying! I think you need to get down here!” that’s when Sizhui knows something is very wrong. He freezes, mouth full of cupcake and frosting, and takes quick stock. He doesn’t feel like he’s bleeding anywhere, he hasn’t knocked any of the glass bowls onto the floor and broken them, and the rabbits are visible through the door to the living room, perfectly safe and content in their pen.
Sizhui goes to put the cupcake down, and that’s when he notices his hand. He lets out a loud yelp and jumps hard enough that his stool tips over backwards and spills him onto the ground with a thump. A very small part of him, whichever part isn’t panicking at the moment, registers the sound of his baba coming down the stairs, and then beginning to laugh at him.
“Baba! What? I don’t know— how—? Baba it’s not funny!” Sizhui exclaims from the floor. He doesn’t mean to sound sulky, but it’s kind of hard when he’s also maybe a little bit trying not to cry.
“No it is not,” a-die agrees, kneeling down to help him sit up, and then running fingers through his hair to check for lumps.
“No, ah, sorry A-Yuan, Lan Zhan.” Baba stifles another round of giggles, by the way his ponytail shakes and his mouth is twitching around an attempt at a serious expression. “Are you OK? Does it hurt at all?”
Sizhui shakes his head, which has mercifully escaped injury by the feel of it. He lifts his other hand and finds it just as purple, all the way up his arm, but bizarre appearances aside it doesn’t feel any different. “What happened?” he asks, as if his fathers are any more likely to know. And then, hesitantly, “Is it everywhere?”
“Mn,” a-die confirms, with a solemn nod.
Baba crouches down in front of him, takes his hands and gives them a little squeeze. “It’ll be alright. Who knew our little radish would grow into a little witch, huh?”
“A witch,” Sizhui repeats. His voice sounds kind of far away and high pitched to his own ears. He leans back against a-die’s shoulder, hoping maybe he can absorb some of his perpetually-calm exterior.
Sizhui knows about witches of course. They’re not common, but there’s usually a couple in most towns, maybe a dozen or two in a larger city. He thinks that a lot of them even do the same normal things as everyone else, just with magic. And flying brooms. He can’t picture himself on a flying broom, no definitely not. That is something to freak out about later. “H-how can I be a witch? How did you not know?”
“Witchcraft runs in families,” a-die says from behind him, voice softer.
The adoption agency hadn’t had any information on Sizhui’s birth family. He nods; it makes at least a little bit of sense. “Then, I did this? But how? I don’t know any magic.”
“It doesn’t usually show up until you’re a teenager,” baba supplies, “and then can do some odd things if you don’t know what you’re doing. I went to school with a couple of siblings who were witches for a little while; some of the things that happened around them were so funny!”
Baba stands up suddenly, with a little, “oh!” and heads inexplicably towards the living room. He returns with Bichen, and deposits her in Sizhui’s lap, before pulling out his phone and wandering away again.
Sizhui instinctively begins to run his fingers through Bichen’s white fur, feeling himself start to actually calm down. His voice sounds less strange when he asks the next question on his mind, “If I don’t know magic, how do I undo it? A-die, am I going to be stuck like this? No one can see me like this!”
“I think your baba is working on that,” a-die replies.
As he trails off, they hear from the other room, “Wen Ning! Hey it’s been forever, how are you and Wen Qing doing?” A pause, and then his voice starts to get closer again as the loop of his pacing takes him back across the house. “Do you still live in the area, or know any witches who do? Yeah, my kid. No, no, nothing serious! But, I think he may need a crash course in magic.” Baba arrives back in the kitchen just in time to give them a wink and a thumbs up. “You’re the best, we’ll see you in a little while!”
Sizhui thinks he may disagree with the assessment that this is ‘nothing serious,’ but the rest sounds promising. Wen Ning lives in Dafan, a small town about an hour’s drive away, so they settle Bichen back in her pen and all three pile into the car. A-die drives, and baba sits in the back with Sizhui, like he used to do when Sizhui was six and would fall asleep on his lap on the way back from family functions. The words ‘I’m not a kid anymore,’ are on Sizhui’s tongue, but he swallows them back down when baba takes his (purple) hand. Which is still really weird, he’s not going to lie, but it’s not nearly so scary now that they’re going to see a witch his baba knows who can fix it. The witch thing in general though, maybe it’s kind of cool but it’s also so much; he’s not sure what to feel about it yet.
It seems Sizhui is destined to repeat the whole little-kid-backseat-thing, because he falls asleep on baba’s shoulder not ten minutes into the drive, lulled by the motion of the car and the traditional music a-die always plays through the radio. He wakes up to baba’s fingers carding through his hair, just as they hit Dafan. It’s a small town, nestled at the base of the mountains. Sizhui recognizes it from weekend markets his fathers have brought him to before, or hikes he’s taken nearby with classmates.
“There you are,” baba says, as Sizhui sits up to watch the traditional buildings of the town square slide past outside the window. “I think the magic might make you tired at first, until you get a handle on it. I always remember Wen Ning taking naps in the strangest places.”
“Ah,” Sizhui, replies simply, less comforted by that fact than slightly mortified by the possibility of falling asleep somewhere unintended. He changes the subject as the car takes a turn onto a smaller street leading back towards the edge of town. “Does he not live in Dafan?”
“Mn,” a-die confirms, “a few minutes out of town.”
The house that they pull up at is the only one along it’s stretch of road, on the last piece of flat ground before the land starts to rise up into foothills. It’s built of dark brown wood, with a roof of curved black tiles and large windows divided into many tiny square panes. All of that is secondary to the greenery bursting from the yard, and around the edges of the building. Ivies crawl the walls, so thick in places that it would be hard to tell what the house looks like beneath, and flowers take up almost the whole fenced area at the front of the house in a riot of color doing it’s level best to overtake the path.
Baba doesn’t seem to be intimidated by the chaos, leading them up towards the porch and setting roses and lavender swaying as he passes. Sizhui and his a-die follow at a more sedate pace. The scent is just as much of a jumble, but to Sizhui’s surprise it’s not overwhelming. Instead it smells as if someone bottled every scent memory he’s ever had of sun-drenched summers into one tiny patch of land.
The door to the house, which baba knocks on with two short, sharp raps, is a bright poppy red. It opens not a minute later to reveal a person who Sizhui presumes is the witch they’re here to see. He doesn’t get a good look though, before baba yanks him into a crushing hug with a cry of, “Wen Ning!”
“Wei Wuxian, hello,” the man says, slightly muffled from where his face is squashed into baba’s shirt. It sounds resigned, and Sizhui can’t help but laugh quietly; his baba is known to inspire that feeling in people.
Once he’s released, the witch stands up and straightens out his oversized gray sweater and cardigan, which he’s wearing despite the August heat. His long hair is only loosely pulled back from the front and out of his face, but the rest is left untied. He looks like he might be about Sizhui’s fathers’ age, but his round face and the swathed-in-blankets impression of his clothing makes him seem younger. He turns to Sizhui and his a-die, and bows. Sizhui wonders if it isn’t in part a ploy to hide his expression, as he can see the corners of his mouth twitch just a bit as he takes in the magical mess Sizhui has made of himself. He straightens and says, “I’m Wen Qionglin, local witch and apothecary for Dafan. Most everyone calls me Wen Ning, though.” His voice is a little slow and halting, and quiet, almost difficult to hear from where he stands on the porch.
A-die bows with the posture and formality as if he were greeting a great teacher. “Lan Wangji, Wei Ying’s husband and father to Lan Sizhui.” Sizhui does his best to copy his a-die’s bow. “Thank you for helping on short notice.”
“I really appreciate it,” Sizhui adds, with feeling. He figures there were probably witches who lived closer to them in Gusu, but there is something comforting about Wen Ning not being a complete stranger. Or perhaps it’s result of the softness the man himself seems to exude.
“And I’m Wei Ying, which you still won’t call me after all these years!”
Wen Ning just gives a small smile and a sheepish duck of his head in response to that. “Nice to meet you. It’s no trouble to help Wei Wuxian’s” - baba just pouts - “family. Come in, please.”
The three of them follow Wen Ning into the house. Sizhui is immensely interested to see what a witch’s home looks like. His first impression is that there are quite a lot of dark colored walls, the paint in the living room where Wen Ning settled them such a deep emerald to be almost black. But there are enough windows, and light wood furniture upholstered in cream and dusty-red fabric, that it feels still strangely open and airy. There are a handful of pictures on the walls, mostly Wen Ning with a tiny woman who looks a lot like him; Sizhui assumes this is the Wen Qing that baba had mentioned. Every other inch of the walls are covered in shelves packed to the brim with plants, and some random stands and side tables besides. There are leaves in every color of green, from the palest, almost-white to deep jewel greens, and even some in reds or deep purples. One corner of the room has been given entirely over to the strangest citrus tree Sizhui has ever seen, bearing what looks like lemons, limes, oranges, and some very bizarre thing shaped like a hand, all at the same time.
Their host gestures for them to sit and disappears into the next room for a moment - presumably the kitchen - and returns with a tea set and a large wooden box. He sets both on the low coffee table. “Sorry, the tea selection may be a little overwhelming. I’ve got most anything you might want in here,” Wen Ning pats the top of the box affectionately, “magical or non-magical both! Oh, although most of the magical ones are medicinal, so ask me what they do first, or if they’ll interact with anything you already take. They have the red labels.”
Sizhui and his baba lean over the box to start inspecting. He actually reads the labels, while baba just starts grabbing things and smelling them. A-die asks for a simple ginseng, which Wen Ning puts aside while the other two continue their search.
“Butterfly pea?” Sizhui asks, pulling out a small jar that looks full of dried blue and yellow flowers.
“Oh that’s a fun one,” Wen Ning replies, with a little smile playing around the edges of his mouth. “It makes bright blue tea, but turns pink if you add lemon juice.”
“Ah, no thank you.” Sizhui doesn’t quite drop the jar as if it’s burning him, but it’s a near thing.
“I’ll have that one!” Baba exclaims, plucking the jar back up.
“Ba!” Sizhui groans, at the same time as his a-die says in his warning voice, “Wei Ying.”
Baba just sighs and puts the tea back, before handing over a different one that smells distinctly sharp and cinnamon-y. Leave it to him to find a tea that is somehow also spicy.
Sizhui just watches as Wen Ning scoops out the leaves into individual strainer baskets over each cup, and pours. He notices that the witch’s movements are a little stiff and stilted, like his voice, but he makes both cups without spilling any. “I have a nice chamomile.” He says once he’s done and waiting for the tea to steep. “Something simple and familiar?”
Sizhui lets out a breath. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Wen Ning makes two cups of the chamomile, and takes the second one for himself, before settling into an arm chair across from them. “So you turned yourself purple,” he starts.
Sizhui thinks he might be blushing. He is also very glad there aren’t any mirrors in his immediate eye-line, because he does not want to know what that looks like. A-die makes a small gesture from next to him, not quite nudging, but a clear ‘mind your manners.’ “Yes, Apothecary Wen. I’d never done anything, ah, magical before today.”
Wen Ning gives a small, jerky nod. “Do you know what caused it? What were you doing before?”
“Maybe? I was baking. It’s Jingyi’s - that’s my best friend - birthday tomorrow, so I made some cupcakes. I was trying one when a-die noticed…” he trails off, looking at his purple fingertips. Blackberry cupcakes. The exact same color as the frosting.
“Cooking mishaps are pretty common. Qing-jie wouldn’t let me near the kitchen for a while. Until I got more control over my magic.”
“You turned yourself purple before too?” Sizhui exclaims. He’d definitely feel better if that was the case.
“Not that exactly. I made a chicken soup once that crowed like a rooster when we tried to eat it, though. That was really… disconcerting. And some cookies that made Qing-jie breathe out sparkles all day. That’s when she kicked me out.
“Magic, when it’s new and you don’t have anywhere to direct it, comes out in a lot of ways that are both weird and logical at the same time. It likes to follow the path of what we put into it - ingredients, materials, sounds or words, gestures - and what meanings we focus on for them. If that makes any sense? Sorry, I haven’t really taught anyone before.” Wen Ning had dropped his eyes to his lap partway through his explanation, but he raises them back up after he finishes speaking.
Sizhui risks a quick glance at his parents to see what they’re making of it. A-die has a blank, polite look on his face, so he’s probably not sure. Baba is nodding though. Which, baba likes a puzzle, or those mystery stories where you have to put clues together. “The frosting was this dark pink,” he muses, trying to think about it like a puzzle. “I added a few drops of blue color because I didn’t think it looked enough like blackberry. I was thinking it needed to be more purple!”
Wen Ning gives him two sharp nods and a smile. “That’s probably it!”
“So, does that mean you know how to fix it?”
“I have some ideas. Finish your tea, and then we’ll go out to the garden.”
Once all of the cups are drained, Wen Ning leads Sizhui - just the two of them, his fathers elected to stay in the house where it’s cool - through the kitchen and a room that was likely meant as a sun room but has been turned into a veritable tropical greenhouse instead. After walking through the heat and humidity, the summer sun is nearly a relief.
Stepping outside, all Sizhui can do is stare. Wen Ning had called this a garden. And while he doesn’t think it’s quite large enough to be a farm, it stretches hundreds of feet back from the house until it hits a copse of trees just before the land begins to rise towards the foothills.
“This is…” Sizhui starts, and then backtracks on just saying an incredulous ‘this is a garden?’ since it feels somewhat rude. “Do you take care of this all by yourself?”
“Mn. Mostly. I have an uncle that helps get things started in the spring. Qing-jie will pitch in if she’s in town, too.”
“It’s amazing. Is it all for your magic?”
Wen Ning shakes his head. “Some. I just eat the vegetables, and sell the extra at the town market,” he gestures towards a large patch where the red of ripening tomatoes stands out against a backdrop of trellised leaves, and winter squash vines sprawl over wide swaths of ground. He tilts his head to another section next, a riot of color even more chaotic than the front garden, “The cut flowers too, and the teas. I use a little magic on all of it though, to help it grow and keep the pests off. But we need the herb garden.”
He leads Sizhui not immediately to the herb garden, but instead to a wooden cabinet nestled up against the house, protected by the eaves. From inside he pulls a basket, a set of clippers, and two sets of gloves, and deposits all but his own gloves into Sizhui’s arms.
Sizhui follows him out into the rows between sections of garden, through the warm afternoon full of the sound of buzzing insects. It smells just as much like heaven out here as the front garden did, and there’s a breeze lightly stirring his hair and keeping it from sticking to the back of his neck. By all rights, it should be a perfect, relaxing summer afternoon, but he’s starting to feel unsettled again. “Apothecary Wen, you said you had ideas,” he starts. He really shouldn’t doubt Wen Ning when he’s so kind as to help, but part of him had thought that a trained, adult witch could just wave a hand and he’d be back to normal. “Is there not a spell in a book, or a potion recipe?”
Sizhui is more expressive of his a-die, he knows that. But everyone is always complimenting him on his maturity, a calmness and steadiness beyond his years. And it’s not quite that he tries to hide it when he’s scared or upset, but usually it’s only his fathers who can see it, his best friends every once in a while.
Wen Ning gets it right away, stopping and turning back, placing a hand on Sizhui’s shoulder and bending down a little so they’re on the same eye level. “No, but we will fix it, I promise. I have recipes for a lot of common things, headaches and stomach aches and anxiety. I also have a lot of tinctures and creams for psoriasis and acne and skin clarity, which we’ll draw on a lot of those ingredients and their properties today. But magic does weird, unexpected things sometimes, so as witches we learn to be creative.”
Sizhui takes a deep breath and lets it out, and decides that it is comforting, if Wen Ning is used to getting creative with magic. He’s even done a little bit of improvising himself before, playing around with tunes on his guqin or the piano, and they’ve come out OK. Maybe magic will be the same. He hopes. “Alright.”
Wen Ning studies his face for a moment more. Sizhui had noticed the witch looking at him slightly more than he might have expected while they were having their tea, but he’d figured it was the oddity of having a purple teenage boy on his couch. But now it’s almost as if he’s looking for something. Before Sizhui can start to feel uncomfortable, Wen Ning nods and straightens up again, then continues to walk through the garden. This time, they walk side by side. “Good. Plus, I’m very good at magical skincare. It’s my best seller,” Wen Ning says with a wink.
It startles a laugh out of Sizhui, and decides he feels almost all the way better.
As soon as they step off the gravel path and into the main body of the garden itself, it’s clear that this is where Wen Ning is most in his element. His soft face brightens up with excitement as he trails his fingers amongst the leaves and begins rattling off common names, scientific names, and properties. Enough so that Sizhui begins to worry about remembering it all, before Wen Ning stops and says with an embarrassed air, “Most of this we don’t need today. Just useful information, if you decide to shape your magic in similar ways. We actually only need the mint, it’s good for focus and concentration, so it should help you channel your magic.”
There are a lot of things in that statement that Sizhui has questions about, but he starts with, “My magic?”
Wen Ning looks down, a sheepish expression crossing his face. “Ah, sorry. I’ll go through the ingredients and guide you, but undoing the effects when our magic does unexpected things is one of the first lessons a young witch does.”
Sizhui wonders if that’s something he would have known if he had grown up with other witches, with his birth family. It causes a little pang in his stomach, part sadness part curiosity. One that he’s not entirely unfamiliar with, for all that he loves his fathers and wouldn’t trade them for the world. He shakes off the thought instead of letting it linger, and tells Wen Ning, “Alright, I’ll try.”
They pick the mint. It’s in it’s own little patch, surrounded by a thin brick border inscribed with runes that Wen Ning explains, with a laugh, are to keep it from taking over the whole garden. He points out some other plants as well that aren’t ready for harvest yet - fennel, red ginsing, licorice - which they’ll use dried from what’s stored in the house.
Then they circle around to the other side of the garden, to collect rose hips. There are roses in every color and size growing, red and pink and yellow and purple, solids and two-color, buds with loose, ruffly petals and ones with smooth petals packed tightly together. The rose garden is a little more orderly than the rest of the cut flowers too, and Sizhui thinks it looks like it’s straight out of a magazine, but Wen Ning makes a frustrated little sigh as soon as they approach a large, trellised bush covered with pink roses.
“Is everything alright?”
Wen Ning waves off his concern. “It’s just beetles. I’m going to go get something for them, if you’ll pick some rose hips from this bush. We’ll need 15.”
It doesn’t take long; the bush has plenty to harvest. It also has plenty of the iridescent beetles about the size of a fingernail which had so upset Wen Ning. He hasn’t come back yet with his beetle solution though, so Sizhui starts to walk down one of the paths through the roses while he waits. His attention is drawn instead to the tall stalks of sunflowers past the roses. Some are short enough to only be at eye level on him, others rise over a foot above his head. He can’t resist reaching out to touch the center of one, where all the little seeds point outwards. He has the faintest memory of looking up and up and up, all the way up to so many huge yellow flowers he could barely see the sky. He’d reached for them, in the silent begging of a small child, until someone with a face he can’t remember had clipped a flower as big as his torso and placed it in his lap.
“Do you like sunflowers, Lan Sizhui?”
Sizhui jerks a little in surprise at Wen Ning’s sudden appearance, his thumb pressing roughly against the scratchy surface. “They’re pretty. And almost nostalgic? I feel like I may have spent time around a lot of them when I was little.” He turns around to see the witch smiling widely, at either him or the flowers, he’s not quite sure.
“I know the feeling,” Wen Ning replies. “My popo loves them, grows even more than me. So many that Qing-jie and I would play hide-and-seek among the stalks. It makes sense though; they’re my family’s symbol.” He steps up to the sunflower that Sizhui had been looking at, takes the clippers from the basket, and snips the flower from it’s stalk, before nestling it between the mint and the rose hips.
“Is it for the, for my uh…”
“No, just for you. So you can take something nice with you, not just a memory of your magic doing things you didn’t want.”
“Thank you Apothecary Wen!” Sizhui bows, the basket swinging at his elbow as he does.
“You’re welcome, but it’s nothing.” Wen Ning leads them back to the house, and Sizhui trails just a step behind, still brushing his hand lightly against the sunflower as he does.
Inside, they wave to Sizhui’s fathers - a-die has found a book on plants and herbs to read, and baba is sprawled across the couch and his lap, on his phone - and grab an orange off of the odd tree, for the peel according to Wen Ning. Then they go into a room which would be a home office in anyone else’s house. Instead it has been transformed with strings of drying herbs strung up across the whole ceiling, and open shelves full of big glass jars and metal tins against two of the walls. The another is taken up by a long wooden workbench, the surface of which looks like it has been stained frequently over the years. Wen Ning gestures for Sizhui to put the basked on the bench, and then begins collecting tools for their work.
“You mentioned something earlier about how I decide to shape my magic, what did you mean?” Sizhui asks, accepting a heavy mortar and pestle that Wen Ning passes him.
Wen Ning is quiet for a moment as he collects a few jars of dried herbs, a thoughtful look on his face. “Remember I said magic comes out of ingredients, and thoughts. Our thoughts and magic are the real catalyst, but the ingredients are like a framework to direct it.” Sizhui nods; he does remember even if he’s not sure if he understands yet. “I use things people do think of as ‘ingredients,’ herbs and flowers and stuff. Which,” Wen Ning measures out a few spoonfuls of fennel seeds into the mortar and pestle, “you’ll need to grind that fine. ‘Ingredients’ can be anything that might provide direction though. Lots of people work with sigils and talismans. I do sometimes, if I need something lasting - like the mint border. People can speak spells, or move their bodies - I’ve seen magic like sign language and magic like dance. You can do magic with sewing, or pottery - although that’s usually sewing or carving sigils into the cloth or clay - or with cooking, or music.”
“I play guqin,” Sizhui blurts at the thought of music. Although, maybe he shouldn’t play for a little while, until he learns some control. That’s a sad thought, but then what could he do with it later?
Wen Ning nods. “I can see if I remember anyone nearby who uses music. Or I can ask around, if that’s something you want to try.”
Sizhui is surprised. He’d thought maybe Wen Ning would be able to teach him magic. But he tells himself that it’s not as if they’d talked about it. He was only helping out in an emergency, not committing himself to being a teacher for however long it took to learn. “OK, thank you,” he says, and changes the topic. “So then, what do witches do?”
That startles a laugh out of Wen Ning. He tilts his head to the side as he looks at Sizhui, long hair spilling over the front of his shoulder. “For jobs?”
“Mn.” The question of what having magic means for the rest of his life has been one of the bigger ones knocking around in Sizhui’s head all afternoon. He doesn’t say it though; it’s the kind of question that usually causes an adult to say he’s really mature, when actually he’d rather they say something reassuring instead.
“Anything really. You could probably guess, but there’s something about magic that matches up really nicely with creating. A lot of witches are artists. Qing-jie is a doctor and a researcher. She studies combining magical medicine with science to use in her practice. Uncle Four is in construction. He uses talismans to help balance loads more safely, or write fire and earthquake protection into the frame of buildings. Some don’t use magic for a career, and want to just do it for fun. You’ve got time though, to think about any of that, after you learn. And after you’re not purple anymore. That looks fine enough.”
Sizhui dumps the fennel into a clean glass jar Wen Ning brought out, and then they work on chopping and grinding the rest together. The witch writes down all of the individual ingredients and the properties they’re trying to draw on for the tincture, too. Which, Wen Ning says would be better than a cream or a lotion so Sizhui doesn’t have to worry about missing spots, which is a mortifying thought if there ever was one.
Once all of the ingredients are prepared, Wen Ning clears off the table and places only the jar and the list of ingredients in front of Sizhui. “Now, to add the magic which will activate it. Have you ever meditated before?”
He nods, “A-die does, and I join him sometimes.”
“That makes things easier. Begin as if you’re meditating, and I’ll talk you through where to direct your focus.”
Sizhui pulls over a stool and gets comfortable, before starting to count his breaths.
Wen Ning’s voice, already soft and slow, becomes even more so as he instructs, “Good. Focus on the center of your chest, just a little lower than your heart. You know the feeling of warmth, or a good tightness, when you are very joyful or really love an activity that you’re doing? That is what you’re looking for in that place. That’s your golden core, where your magic lives.”
Sizhui pictures it behind his closed eyelids, a warm glowing ball in his chest. He’d felt it earlier today, what he’d thought was only just happiness that his baking for his best friend had come out so well. Maybe that’s how some of the magic had gotten mixed into it in the first place. “I think I have it.”
“Now try to feel that warmth flow through your body. Down into your stomach, and your legs, through your shoulders and arms to your hands.”
That part is less easy. He holds his fists to that little knot in his chest, and tries to feel as if they are grabbing hold of some piece of it and dragging it through his veins, but he keeps loosing hold of it. He grabs the thread again and again in an imagined hand, until he makes a frustrated noise and sways in his seat.
“That’s OK,” Wen Ning says from somewhere that feels very far away. “It’s a new skill. Let’s take a break for a moment, and have something to eat. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Sizhui hears footsteps retreating, and eases his eyes open against the late afternoon sunlight casting a pattern of panes through the window and onto the workbench. He picks up the jar and tilts it side to side, looking at the way all the powders and pieces of what is supposed to be his cure shift together. It smells pretty nice actually, if he pays attention to it. He starts a little when the door opens and closes again, and he puts the jar down quickly. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb anything.”
“Not at all, it’s not a bad idea to interact more with your ingredients. Here,” Wen Ning puts down a plate of small, round cookies and another pot of chamomile tea on the table, and sits on the other stool. “Tell me about something other than magic, while we eat. Try not to think about it at all for just a few minutes.”
So Sizhui talks about the rabbits while they clear the plate of the cookies - surprisingly light in texture and flavored with cardamom. He even pulls out his phone and flips back to pictures of Bichen and Suibian when they were small.
“Is this you, Lan Sizhui,” the witch asks, about a picture where a nine-year-old Sizhui sits on the ground with both rabbits tucked together in his lap, and a radiant smile on his face.
“Mn, we’d only had them a few months, and it was the first time they sat in my lap.”
“You look like…” Wen Ning trails off, staring intently at the picture, and an odd quality to his voice.
“I look like what?”
He gives himself a little shake, and then says, “You look like you love them very much. A-are you ready to try your magic again?”
“Yeah, alright.” Sizhui puts his phone away, and closes his eyes again. He does feel better for the snack, and it’s easy to find the knot in his chest again. This time he forgoes trying to picture grabbing the magic, and instead thinks about the feeling of warmth from the first drink of tea and how it flows down his throat and to his stomach. He thinks of what it would feel like if it kept spreading throughout his whole body.
“There, you’ve got it!” Wen Ning exclaims. “Now, put your hand above the jar, and think about your ingredients, and what you need them to do. Think about pushing your magic into them, and waking them up. You can open your eyes and look at the list if it helps.”
Sizhui takes a deep breath, and opens his eyes. He looks at the individual pieces of mint and fennel and orange peel, rose hips and licorice root and red ginseng, remembers the smell. His fingertips feel tingly, the same way they might if his hand had fallen asleep, and then a red symbol blooms above the jar. It’s gone quickly, but Sizhui thinks it looked like a stylized sunflower, with a spiral as the base of each petal that then unfurls away from the center of the flower.
There’s a loud noise, like something smacking against the wood of the table top, and the feeling of the magic flickers away. “Ah, Apothecary Wen I’m so sorry! I lost it. Did I ruin it? Are you OK?”
The last is said as he looks over to see that the sound was Wen Ning catching himself with a hand on the worktop. “Tha-that’s Wen magic,” the witch stammers out. He looks a little dazed, staring at Sizhui but in an unfocused sort of way.
“Wen magic? What does that mean?”
“Each family has a magic signature, colors and patterns. They’re unique. Wen is a red sunflower, that red sunflower.” Wen Ning holds a palm up then, the one that’s not still supporting him, and above it blooms the exact same symbol that Sizhui just made, without thinking, over the jar. “Do you know anything about your birth parents?”
Sizhui shakes his head slowly, feeling confused and overwhelmed, and perhaps a little dizzy. He wonders if that last one is the magic, he did fall off a chair the last time he used it. “No, there were never any records.”
“What’s your given name?”
“Yuan, my given name is Lan Yuan.”
Wen Ning makes a punched out sound at that, and his eyes are starting to look a little wet. “I-I think you m-might be my cousins’ son. We weren’t very close; I didn’t think it was odd that we didn’t really have contact with them after they moved. But you look so much like my cousin when he was your age, and the magic... I have letters, and photos. Let me- let me go get them.”
Sizhui follows when Wen Ning leaves the workroom. He feels a little unsteady, and looks at his fathers without really seeing them.
“A-Yuan?” A-die asks in a questioning, concerned voice.
This alerts baba, who jumps up from the couch, and comes to take Sizhui’s face in his hands. “Is everything alright? You’re still purple, did it not work? Did something go wrong? Where’s Wen Ning going?”
Sizhui glances at where the witch had just turned the corner into the hall, and shakes his head. He takes his baba’s hand and leads him back to the couch, where he sits between his parents and says, “Apothecary Wen says I have Wen family magic. He thinks my birth parents might be his cousins.”
This pulls a startled, “What?” out of both.
“When I did magic, it looked like a red sunflower. He said that’s the Wen family symbol and color. He’s gone to get pictures. E-even if it’s true, you are still my parents, and I’m still your son!” Sizhui blurts out, suddenly anxious. They’ve talked about ways to try to find his birth family before, if he ever wanted to, but he hadn’t decided what he wanted to do yet, or when. He wasn’t expecting to have an answer sprung on him like this.
“Ayah, of course you’ll always be our little radish!” Baba cries, flinging his arms around Sizhui and a-die, to squash them both together in a hug.
“We never doubted,” a-die reassures. “A-Yuan shouldn’t doubt either.”
That’s how Wen Ning finds them when he comes back with what looks like a shoebox that’s been covered in nice paper. He sets it on the table, and kneels down to flip through the papers inside. “Ah, here!” He hands over a postcard, covered in photos like what someone might send for a holiday card; the address is from Dafan.
Sizhui’s hands are shaking just a little bit when he takes it, and stares at what is probably his own birth announcement, and baby photos. It reads ‘Wen Yuan, born January 12th,’ and dated 17 years ago. There’s him wrapped in a blanket in the hospital, in a crib in what must have been his childhood home, held between a man and a woman that he doesn’t know. Except, he’s looked at nearly the same face as the man’s in the mirror for years. It’s a little older, and Sizhui’s nose is a little wider and flatter - like the woman’s - but the eyes and the mouth are so, so similar. He brushes his fingertips lightly over the glossy paper, and blinks hard against the moisture in his eyes.
When he looks back up at Wen Ning, he’s offering him a letter this time, with a photo sticking out between the folds. There’s a date on the back of the photo - his third birthday - and it shows him sitting between the same two people on a couch. He has cake crumbs on his face, and is waving a paper butterfly on a stick with a big grin. Sizhui remembers, ever so faintly, that paper butterfly.
From where he’s looking over Sizhui’s shoulder, baba says, “this looks so much like when we brought you home.”
The letter itself is addressed from Qishan this time. Qishan was the city his fathers adopted him from, when he was four. The first line reads ‘A-Yuan is still having some trouble getting settled into our new home, but his birthday party certainly helped that along.’
“We got that shortly after they moved, and didn’t hear much after,” Wen Ning clarifies, as if wanting to fill the silence. As if not wanting to ask the question hanging in the air.
Sizhui swallows hard. “I think you’re right. I think this has to be me. Do you-do you know what happened?”
Wen Ning looks down at that, his face clouding over. “No. But I can ask Popo, or some of my aunts and uncles, someone may be able to help us track down an answer.”
“OK, OK that would be. Good. Maybe not right away though, this is all a lot.”
A-die runs a hand up and down Sizhui’s back.
“That’s understandable,” Wen Ning replies
“Then, you said you and my birth father were cousins, that would make you my tang-shu?”
“I think that would be right, but,” Wen Ning’s smiling, but it looks a little shy, “I don’t have any nephews, if you wanted to call me shushu?”
“Yeah, alright, I can do that shushu. And you should call me A-Yuan.” The tears break at that point, and Sizhui passes the picture and letter to a-die, at risk of ruining them. “C-can I hug you?”
Wen Ning gives two sharp, enthusiastic nods, and stands. Sizhui comes around the table, and throws his arms around him. Wen Ning’s hug is much stronger than Sizhui might’ve guessed from his appearance, but like just about everything else he’s experienced with the witch, inherently comforting.
“All this time, we weren’t even far from each other, and never knew,” Sizhui mumbles into Wen Ning’s shoulder.
He lets himself cling for a moment, before he steps back to rub his eyes and then bows formally to Wen Ning. “Shushu, will you teach me magic!” He had felt disappointed at the thought of going to a different teacher before, but now that he knows Wen Ning is his shushu, that he could learn magic from a member of his family the way witches have for hundreds of years… “I know it’s asking a lot, and I don’t know if I’ll want to do magic like yours, or with music yet, but I want to learn your magic, our family’s magic! Please.”
“I would love to!” Wen Ning tells him with a big grin, but then it twists up in amusement at one corner. “But maybe you should hold off on deciding until we see if your tincture works.”
“Ah.” Sizhui had almost forgotten all about it in this new excitement. That’s a good idea though, he would really like to stop being purple. And then maybe go home and curl up with Bichen and Suibian and a movie that has absolutely nothing at all to do with magic.
His newly minted witchcraft teacher returns to the workroom to fetch the tincture and Sizhui’s sunflower, and then shows them some old family photos while they wait for it to steep, from holidays or family reunions when he was a child. It seems Sizhui's birth father had only attended a few of the larger functions so there's not many, but the resemblance is striking.
“That picture of you with your rabbits really made me suspect. But I didn’t think it was possible, I didn’t know—” Wen Ning trails off, but Sizhui can guess the rest of the thought; he hadn’t know Sizhui had been adopted, hadn’t known he wasn’t living with his birth family anymore. “There wasn’t anything else it could be though, when you had the family signature. Which,” he pours a small cup from the kettle, and holds his hands around the bottom, just the faintest red light spilling between his fingers and the porcelain. “This feels like we’ve got it right. Give it a try.”
Sizhui takes the cup, and feels that some of the heat has been drained off, enough that he can drink all of it in one go without burning his mouth. It tastes a little muddled up, with all of the things they added, but not bad. That same heat that he’d felt when he called his magic spreads through him though, gentle and easy. “Did it work?” He jumps up from the couch again and goes to a mirror that he’d seen on the wall earlier. Staring back at him is his normal self. He tilts his head from side to side, and inspects his arms and legs; there’s not a hint of violet anywhere. “It worked! I did magic! Thank you shushu!”
Sizhui gives Wen Ning another bow, and his fathers stand to do the same. Since that’s about all the excitement it seems anyone is up for in one day, they decide on a good time for more magic lessons, and prepare to make their goodbyes. Wen Ning even suggests with an amused smile that with some training Sizhui might be able to come out here by himself on a broomstick, which is starting to sound more like a fun prospect than a scary one.
He leads them out to the porch then, and bows Sizhui’s fathers. “Thank you, for caring for A-Yuan so well. He’s grown into a fine young man, and I look forward to teaching him.” They bow back, and Sizhui does too, feeling his face flush under the praise, and feeling much better now that he won’t have to worry about what a purple blush looks like anymore.
A-die heads down to the car first, baba trailing a little behind. Before Sizhui can follow, Wen Ning hands him the jar with his tincture. “I don’t have any need of this,” he explains, “And we shouldn’t let any of your hard work today go to waste. Any of it,” he adds again with a wink. Sizhui hears his baba, who is still just barely in earshot, snort at that.
Sizhui imagines the look on Jingyi’s face when he eats the cupcake, and then sees the result. “I’ll have to find a good use for it, then.” When he gets down to the car, he turns back around to wave back, with the hand holding his sunflower. “Thank you shushu, I’ll see you next week!”
#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#the untamed#lan sizhui#wen ning#witch au#tmariea writes
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Soldier, Poet, King
Part 14
[Beginning] [Previous]
[AO3] [Masterpost]
Warning for Lan Xichen experiencing a pretty strong panic attack that requires him to be sedated so that he doesn't endanger himself (in the sense of this universe, i.e. neural overload rather than becoming a risk for self-harming etc.)
--//--
With the battle won, now seems like the perfect time for Lan Xichen to have a chance to have a bit of a come apart. He’d helped everyone else through theirs, and he’d been happy to do it — but his brother is still out there somewhere, had been down in the city when the Kaiju landed, and his partners aren’t doing well at all, and his dear friend and her partner are currently being extracted carefully from their forcefully-shut-down Jaeger out in the rubble of the city to receive emergency medical attention lest they die, and everything happening is just so much to deal with, when is he allowed to break down on someone’s shoulder?
Nie Mingjue is stonily silent as he holds Jin Guangyao in his arms, sitting there on the floor of the comms tower right where their partner had collapsed, and when he reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair off Jin Guangyao’s forehead Lan Xichen can see how badly his fingers shake. He aches to beg someone to help them, for someone to bring him the news of his brother and Wei Wuxian, or to at least keep an eye out for Lan Wangji and let Lan Xichen know when he returns — he yearns for the chance, for once, to not be the one who holds everyone else together.
But Jiang Wanyin and all of the (conscious) Jins are down in Sparks’ Bay 5 anxiously waiting for Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan to be brought in, Nie Zonghui is coordinating the effort of emptying the bunkers again and sending people out to check on the citizens of the rest of the city in the aftermath, and there’s no one left to ask that he feels like he can burden with their problems.
He falls to his knees in front of Nie Mingjue and leans in slowly enough to know Nie Mingjue is watching him to press their foreheads together and breathe through the trembling panic buzzing right under his skin. Nie Mingjue exhales heavily and leans forward enough to increase the pressure, so Lan Xichen tips his chin to brush a barely-there kiss to his bloodless lips.
“We should get him somewhere else…somewhere that’s not the floor,” Lan Xichen mumbles after a few more moments spent just sharing Nie Mingjue’s space. He’s close enough to hear the thickness in Nie Mingjue’s throat when he swallows and pulls back enough to look down at Jin Guangyao lying unconscious between them, far too small and pale. Nie Mingjue gathers him closer, too tight, and Lan Xichen tuts as the shift in position forces Jin Guangyao’s head to loll back at an angle that wouldn’t be at all comfortable were he awake.
“I can’t,” Nie Mingjue chokes. “I…He’ll wake up. Then we can go. I can’t –”
Lan Xichen hums softly in the back of his throat and puts a grounding hand on the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck to squeeze tightly, silently understanding. He readjusts to get a little more comfortable sitting on the floor and tucks himself close enough that Nie Mingjue can curl forward to hide in his neck as he clutches Jin Guangyao close and breathes through his usual post-battle comedown.
Lan Xichen isn’t sure how long they’ve been there when there’s a tentative knock at the door and he turns his head enough to spot Wen Ning, of all people, poking his pale face around the door frame.
“Zewu-jun, Chifeng-zun,” he greets with a little bob of his head. “Jie’s looking after Jiang-guniang and Jin-gongzi, she sent me to check on the three of you.”
“Come in, Qionglin. How are they?”
“Unconscious, but stable,” he says with barely a stutter as he bustles in, a standard issue portable first aid field kit strapped to his thigh and hip. “They’ll be alright, jiejie’s the best doctor in the world for neural overload.”
“Mn. And..Wangji? Wuxian?” It feels wrong to ask, a jinx, but Wen Ning just nods again as he settles in on his knees there on the floor with them at the top of Jin Guangyao’s head so that Nie Mingjue doesn’t need to change how he’s holding him for Wen Ning to start taking his vitals.
“They’re fine! They got in a shelter when it hit land. Wei-gongzi borrowed a phone off someone they were with in the bunker and called jie once they opened back up to let people out. They said they’re going to help with the clean-up and redirecting everyone back to the residential quarters, but they’ll be back as soon as they’re finished.”
Lan Xichen closes his eyes and turns his face away from Wen Ning to have a moment to let pure, naked relief cross his features. His hands shake where he’s supporting Jin Guangyao’s head and still cupping the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck and Nie Mingjue leans in to brush a kiss to his cheek in silent understanding.
Wen Ning works in silence for a few long moments, taking Jin Guangyao’s vitals and, when Lan Xichen gives him a nod to go ahead, checking his eyes with a flashlight. Lan Xichen’s hope that it would wake him up is in vain, but Wen Ning doesn’t look any more concerned or serious than usual so he does his best to believe that this isn’t overly worrying.
“I’d need to get him down to the medical labs for a full test if you want me to scan his brain activity, but I’d say he’s mostly just been overwhelmed,” Wen Ning says when he’s finished and he gently sits back to let Nie Mingjue readjust his grip on Jin Guangyao again, to pull him closer. “I…I heard what happened. Reliving his trauma would have taken a lot out of him to begin with, even before the..the rest of it. He needs to rest somewhere quiet, your quarters should be perfectly fine. Though of course if you want to bring him down to the medical bay you’re welcome to. We’ve got plenty of cots.”
“We’ll take him home,” Nie Mingjue rasps. He sounds like absolute hell, and Lan Xichen sees Wen Ning pick up on that instantly, his wide gaze turning shrewd.
“Chifeng-zun. I’d like to examine you as well.”
“I’m fine.”
Lan Xichen subtly shifts a little to the side to give Wen Ning room to get a look at Nie Mingjue’s eyes, which he realizes too late are bloodshot, and more than a little unfocused.
“Jie’s orders. Everyone gets a checkup.”
“I said I’m fine!”
“Mingjue.” Lan Xichen is proud that the fresh fear spiking through him isn’t audible, his voice instead firm, authoritative (he’ll find time later to ruminate on how much he sounds like Lan Qiren). “Let Qionglin examine you or I will knock you unconscious as well. You’re slipping.”
Nie Mingjue, for the first time since they’d met, looks absolutely livid. With him.
Lan Xichen meets his burning gaze calmly, steadily. It’s who he is. It’s who he always has been.
Calm.
Steady.
Always there to support. To guide. To lead.
What else is there for him to do?
Nie Mingjue bares his teeth at him and clutches Jin Guangyao so tightly Lan Xichen hears his too-relaxed shoulder pop.
“You’re hurting him, Mingjue,” he whispers. “Let me hold him, just long enough for Qionglin to check you over.”
Perhaps no one else would be able to see it (no, Jin Guangyao would be able to as well, if he were awake) but Lan Xichen can see something like sense in the depths of Nie Mingjue’s unfocused glare. He can only imagine what sort of internal battle his lover is fighting, straining back to reality when it would be so easier to let his demons win. Wen Ning is motionless and silent beside them, waiting patiently for Lan Xichen to succeed, as if he can’t imagine that he won’t. Lan Xichen reaches out — slowly, slowly — and covers Nie Mingjue’s too-hard hands with his own.
Gently.
Nie Mingjue’s fingers twitch under his and Lan Xichen helps him begin to loosen the death grip he has on Jin Guangyao’s arm and thigh.
“It’s alright, ge,” Lan Xichen murmurs. “I’m right here, we’re safe. But I need you to let me have A-Yao, just for a moment.”
Lan Xichen forces himself to stay precisely where he is as he hears the lift clattering up to the top of the comms tower.
“Mingjue, love — please, you have to let go.”
“Da-ge!!”
Lan Xichen watches a bit more light return to Nie Mingjue’s gaze at the sound of Nie Huaisang’s voice and his grip loosens again, ever so slightly. Lan Xichen brushes his thumbs against Nie Mingjue’s knuckles and ducks his head enough to catch his gaze again.
“Mingjue, let me hold A-Yao so Huaisang can help Qionglin.”
“What are you all doing on the floor?” Huaisang asks — too loud, too fast. He swings into the room and barrels straight through the fraught atmosphere to drape himself over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, arms tight around his brother’s neck so he can burrow into him like a child getting a piggy-back ride.
“A-Sang?” Nie Mingjue rasps. His arms finally uncurl and Lan Xichen exhales a soft sigh of relief as he hurries to transfer Jin Guangyao’s limp, prone form into his own arms, across his own lap. Lan Xichen strokes Jin Guangyao’s short fringe back from his forehead while Nie Huaisang distracts Nie Mingjue with his chattering about how uncomfortable the bunkers are, how he’s so happy they weren’t in there for too long, how everyone’s settling back in nicely after being let out.
“Go on, Qionglin, he won’t hurt you,” Lan Xichen reassures Wen Ning at a questioning glance. The man nods his shy thanks before he reaches out for Nie Mingjue’s wrist to start taking his vitals with the little scanner from the first aid kit. Lan Xichen actually watches the sense return to Nie Mingjue’s eyes as he listens to his brother giving a play-by-play of the gossip down in the bunkers, as Wen Ning takes him mechanically through the usual battery of check-ups — something that he knows Nie Mingjue has sat through with varying degrees of willingness too many times to count.
“Zewu-jun, I’d like to check you over too.”
“Yes, of course,” he agrees easily with a smile to hide the fact that he hadn’t even realized Wen Ning had finished with Nie Mingjue, too lost in thoughts of his own to follow the familiar beats of the routine. Wen Ning lets him keep holding Jin Guangyao as he goes through the same steps again, taking his vitals with all the ease of years spent training under and then working alongside his sister.
“Do you need us to keep an eye on Chifeng-zun?” Wen Ning murmurs when he shuffles behind Lan Xichen to press on a few acupressure points in the back of his neck. “He’s still at risk.”
Lan Xichen shakes his head in a soft no. Across from him, Nie Mingjue looks a little confused, a little lost, and more than anything painfully exhausted. But he thinks of seeing him in the medical bay, hooked to monitors and hanging onto his sanity with little more than gritted teeth and clenched fists, and his heart breaks.
Wen Ning presses a few more spots on his neck and shoulders until his heartbeat slows and he feels like he can take a deep breath again. It nearly ends on a hitching sob but he controls himself with force of will and a lifetime of practice. He controls himself long enough to bundle Jin Guangyao up in his arms to stand with him, long enough to capture Nie Mingjue’s wandering attention and signal for him to follow, long enough for them to move in an uncertain shuffle — him, Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang, and Wen Ning — down through the shatterdome, down long corridors bustling with people returning to their business or else rushing to help wherever they’ve been called, until they reach their quarters.
Lan Xichen continues to keep it together through getting Nie Mingjue settled in bed with Jin Guangyao wrapped up tightly in his arms once again, and through sending the others out into the hallway with reassurances that they’ve got things under control, that they’re going to be fine and yes, of course he’ll call if he needs help.
Nie Mingjue’s gaze is heavy on him as he closes the door, and leans against it, and breathes in.
Out.
In.
Out.
The shivery feeling in his chest is back with a vengeance; Xichen pushes off from the door with hands that don’t feel the cold bite of the metal, nor the way he fumbles and accidentally bashes his knuckles against the jut of the frame with a clang, bone on steel.
“A-Huan?”
“I just need to step next door for a moment,” Xichen says. “Please stay with A-Yao.”
He swallows around whatever it is that’s trying to escape his chest, his throat, and hurries around the edge of their bed to the door that separates the two halves of their space; the handle slips from his uncertain grasp once, twice, before he manages to push the lever far enough to hear the latch spring free.
“A-Huan!”
“Just stay with A-Yao!” Xichen pleads around the sob clawing its way free with anxious fingers despite his attempts to contain it. He hurries into the other room and accidentally slams the door shut again behind him in his haste to be alone, to be hidden, to be safe —
Do not show excessive emotion.
Maintain your own discipline.
Be strict with yourself.
Do not create damages.
Love all beings.
Uphold the value of justice.
Shoulder the weight of morality.
Have courage and knowledge.
Do not fail to carry out your promise.
Be strict with yourself.
Maintain your own discipline.
Do —
Do not —
Do not show excessive emotion.
Do not show excessive emotion.
Do not show excessive emotion —
Xichen bites his arm hard enough to bruise, better that than to scream, than to cry, than to grieve in excess for something he doesn’t have the vocabulary to put a name to.
It’s too much.
All of it, it’s too much. It’s been too much for so long he didn’t even notice it growing worse.
He can’t stop it, he can’t get out, he has a duty, he has a responsibility, shoulder the weight of morality, uphold the value of justice —
The sob he’s been holding in shakes loose, then free, and the floodgates open, forcing him to curl in on himself where he’s crammed himself in the corner between one wall and another, his back protected and safe as he falls apart at the seams there in the dark as silently as he can try to be. He can’t disturb Mingjue, he can’t do this in front of him when his partner has so much more reason to relapse and lose himself but he hadn’t, he hadn’t, he’s stronger than Lan Xichen will ever be and Lan Xichen can’t even support him right now and if he can’t support his own partners in their hour of need then how can he expect to be their co-pilot, how can he even call himself their partner if this is what he can be reduced to —
“Shhh xiongzhang, I’m here,” Lan Wangji’s voice calls, soft as a memory, and how can Lan Xichen know it isn’t one? He’s been in Nie Mingjue’s head, he’s seen the hallucinations he used to have, heard the voices he used to hear, and now here Lan Xichen is thinking he can hear his brother when there’s no way enough time has passed for them to be back from the city yet. And there’s always so many other things to do for cleanup, his brother wouldn’t come to him first, why would he? He has Wei Wuxian, and together they’re going to heal the world and Lan Xichen will watch from afar his brother wouldn’t be here —
“I am,” Lan Wangji says. The two words, firm and confident and much more present than he’d thought, make him freeze save for his trembling, and though he doesn’t dare look up to see if he’s truly hallucinating this he can’t help but reach blindly into the darkness in front of him, hand grasping, seeking, desperate for proof that he hasn’t been left alone, left behind —
His seeking fingers are caught in a firm grip and Lan Xichen shudders again as he’s tugged forward, closer, out of the bruising smash of his corner and into arms that wrap confidently around his hunching shoulders to press reality back into him through sheer force.
“It’s alright xiongzhang, you’re safe.”
“Wangji?” Nie Mingjue still sounds like hell and Lan Xichen wants desperately to soothe him, send him back to bed, tell him to tend to A-Yao and watch over him, keep their lover safe while he’s so vulnerable.
All that escapes his lips is a whimper.
“He is overwhelmed, but unharmed,” Lan Wangji reports. His voice is cool, clinical, the same voice he’s heard in his mind and at his side too many times to count. He can’t…he can’t be weak, in front of Lan Wangji. He can’t break like this. That isn’t allowed. It’s against the rules.
“You have a responsibility, Xichen,” Lan Qiren tells him. Lan Xichen is fifteen today. After their usual silent breakfast, he had received the expected congratulations for the milestone of another year lived from his brother’s silent, gesturing hands and his uncle’s stern sort of affection that he craves more than anything. “Your brother and I will assist you, but it’s time you step up to start leading the clan as you are meant to do. You cannot fail in this, do you understand me? Too many people are depending on you.”
“Yes, Shufu,” he says, because he knows. He’s known since he was old enough to overhear someone say that he would one day have to lead, and he’d begun preparing for perfection from that day until now. He can do it. He has to.
Lan Xichen clutches the thick canvas of Lan Wangji’s jumpsuit and hides in his brother’s shoulder as if that can hide the fact that he’s finally failed. He couldn’t protect Wangji, he couldn’t protect his lovers, or the people of Shanghai. He can’t do anything now except let fear overtake him, and if that’s all that he can do then how can he ever look his uncle — his brother, the rest of their family — in the eyes again?
“I’m sorry, xiongzhang,” Wangji tells him, soft and for his ears alone. “Everyone will be well, you may ask for help.”
He can’t. He can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t —
“Wangji, Wen-daifu is here.”
Lan Xichen flinches away from Nie Mingjue’s ragged voice as much as he recoils from the thought of anyone else outside of his brother or his lover seeing him like this, but Wen Qing steps into the room without waiting for a go-ahead. Lan Xichen attempts to sit up straight around the yanking ache in his gut and the way his entire body wants to remain curled tightly in on itself. His shaking hands release Wangji’s jumpsuit and he swipes them under his eyes just to be sure, startled to feel them suddenly become cool and damp with tears that he wipes away again, a bit harder as if he can scrub his skin clean of the evidence of his weakness.
“Zewu-jun,” she greets, businesslike to combat Wangji’s softness. Lan Xichen jerks as if he’d been shocked, the title reminding of his duty, his reputation, with all the subtlety of a baseball bat to the face. Lan Wangji stiffens in the same moment and turns to look at Wen Qing over his shoulder. Lan Xichen can’t see his brother’s expression in the dark and half-turned away like he is, but something about it stops even the fearsome Wen Qing in her tracks, her hands raised in conciliation or surrender.
“Do not,” he snaps, a rumbling censure with the entire force of his unshakeable conviction behind it. “He is only Xichen. Human.”
The Twin Jades. Light-Bearer and Life-Bringer, larger than life, utterly unreachable. Distant. Aloof from the world, from emotion, from the difficulties of mortality. Meant to guide others — all of humanity — along the path to peace and righteousness whenever and wherever possible.
Lan Xichen has never felt further from the man his unasked-for title proclaims him to be. It’s a relief and an embarrassment in equal measure that his brother knows this without needing to be told.
“Xichen,” Wen Qing agrees, some of the brusqueness in her voice slipping away as her hands drop down to her sides again. “A-Ning was worried for you, Xichen. You’re very close to neural overload, I have some things to help.”
“He was not in the fight,” Lan Wangji protests, protective. He pulls away from where he still has an arm wrapped around Lan Xichen’s shoulder in order to place himself fully between Wen Qing and Lan Xichen. He’s never wanted his brother to feel the need to protect him, but if he must then Lan Xichen will guiltily cherish the feeling of being taken care of, even as it makes him feel weak and helpless in a way that really just feels like failure.
“You and I both know that a pilot does not need to be in a Jaeger to lose themselves.”
Lan Xichen doesn’t have the focus necessary to understand the significance of the moment that passes between them then, but whatever it is they both know that he doesn’t is enough incentive to coax Lan Wangji into shifting aside enough to allow Wen Qing to kneel in front of him.
“Xichen,” Wen Qing says quietly, and this time there’s no business-like professionalism in her wide, dark eyes at all. There’s only kindness, and he aches to lean into it like a flower follows the sun. “I understand why you feel this way, and I understand that it’s unlikely to change at my say-so. But you do not have to be perfect, and I promise you that the people you wish to be perfect for would never wish to see you kill yourself attempting to do so. You’re allowed to not be okay.”
Xichen’s breath hitches in his chest as he battles with the shame of needing to be told something he has never once hesitated to offer to others. Others are allowed to be weak. Others are allowed to need his help, others are allowed to break. Never him. He doesn’t argue with Wen Qing, though. He’s never once questioned corrections to his behavior, and so he nods and it turns into a stiff, tiny bow, just the dip of his head and shoulders as his hands curl into fists on top of his thighs.
Wen Qing watches him for another long moment before she sighs and seems to resign herself to the fact that he isn’t capable of obeying the half-spoken order to let himself relax right this moment. He struggles not to fold and break under another failure as she turns her attention to reaching into the kit strapped to her hip as Wen Ning’s had been, though he knows hers doesn’t only contain the standard issue first aid supplies.
“Even outside of the Drift, pilots are more prone to neural overload than anyone else in the world,” she says as she withdraws a syringe full of something viscous and electric blue in the light seeping in through the open door behind her. She holds it up above eye level to let the light shine through it, and whatever she finds (or doesn’t) seems to satisfy her as she pulls a disposable needle from the medkit next, her hands sure and steady as she rips open the package and starts to assemble the dose. “Each time we Drift, we weaken ourselves to each other, and though we’re stronger for our ability to connect as we do, we also gradually become so dependent on each other that to exist separately is..taxing.”
Lan Xichen tries to keep up with the thread of her speech with his fracturing attention. Lan Wangji moves to kneel beside him, his perfect mirror save for the way his brother slides a warm, heavy arm around his shoulders, grounding and steady just like Wangji himself.
“Your Drift with Chifeng-zun and Lianfang-zun is still young, and you don’t have the benefit of regular training or drops to keep your pathways aligned and strengthened by each other. It may seem counter to how you started, but you each grow weaker the longer you go without connecting in the Drift. Do you hear me, Xichen? This shot is a temporary fix — when you’re all three recovered, I’m prescribing you sessions in the Drift simulator. You do not have a choice if you want to survive this war.”
“I understand,” Xichen tells her, because that, at least, he understands. Without his Drifts with Lan Wangji, and with all of the stresses and other demands on his partners’ time, time in the simulator seemed…selfish to ask for, particularly when they’re all so keen on other, more accessible ways of being intimate together to make up for the fact that they can’t be flight partners as the other Drift pairs are. It makes sense that the yawning ache in the back of his mind, in the depths of his being, is actually something medically diagnosable; it certainly feels like it should be.
“I’m going to give you this stabilizer, you’re going to sleep in that ridiculous bed over there, and when you wake up you and your partners will get the clusterfuck that is this Shatterdome under control. When you’ve finished that, all three of you will report to medbay as my patients until I give you clearance to look after yourselves. Repeat it.”
Xichen sucks in another too-unsteady breath and focuses on the weight around his shoulders, the steely glint of determination in Wen Qing’s glare.
“I will receive a neural stabilizer for a temporary solution, which must then be slept off. When I wake, Mingjue, A-Yao, and I will address the immediately pressing issues within the ‘dome that cannot be delegated or delayed. We will then put ourselves in your care until you decide we may leave it again.”
Wen Qing, apparently mollified, only leans forward and Wangji’s arm around his shoulders turns restraining as there’s a pinch just beside the nape of his neck, and the uniquely uncomfortable sensation of far more fluid under his skin than there should be. Within moments there’s a soft aura around the edges of his vision, and his head feels too thick to string two thoughts together.
Even as his consciousness slips away, Lan Xichen knows his muscles remember the proper way to sit. He kneels upright as the world slips away from him, and only as he’s sliding fully under does he feel himself sag sideways to land against his brother’s chest, dragged there by the grip around his shoulders as much as his relaxing muscles.
“He’ll be alright, Wangji, I promise,” is the last thing he hears before he slips into soothing nothingness and has no choice but to trust that there are people to care for him as he lets go.
–//–
“How long will the build take?”
Lan Xichen stirs a little at the sound of Nie Mingjue’s voice, pitched low but thankfully not nearly as rough as the last time he’d heard his partner speak. He can’t hear whatever response he receives, but Nie Mingjue grunts his acknowledgement of whatever was said; he must be on his rarely-touched cellphone, a necessary evil if he must run the ‘dome from enforced bedrest.
“Xichen and A-Yao are still down for the count, I can’t check with them. But it’s better than what we’d hoped for anyway, so I don’t think they’ll say no — get him on it as soon as possible. What have we said to the press?”
Another response, an unheard half of the conversation. Xichen blinks his eyes open slowly, keeping them mostly close to ensure the feather of his lashes softens any lights that may hurt his head. The lights are dimmed though, the directionless yellow glow of the track lighting in the ceiling turned as low as it can possibly go. It’s comfortable enough, and it means that when Lan Xichen focuses more on his immediate surroundings the first thing he sees is Jin Guangyao’s face, soft and smooth in deep sleep. He brings one clumsy hand up to press the backs of his fingers against Jin Guangyao’s cheek; his partner doesn’t so much as twitch, not even a flutter of his lashes, but a finger held carefully under his nose reassures Lan Xichen that he is, at least, still breathing. That’s reassuring enough for now.
Nie Mingjue grunts another wordless acknowledgement — surprisingly neutral, as he nearly never is when dealing with the press.
“Could be worse. Hold them off a little longer, will you? I know people are panicking but..I can’t…without them, I —”
Xichen reaches across Jin Guangyao between them to feel blindly for the nearest part of Nie Mingjue he can find. His fingers close around the hard curve of his knee where he’s sat up in bed, legs folded tailor-style, and the second he makes contact his partner’s hand lands heavy and warm on top of his to hold him there.
“Xichen’s awake, I have to go. I’ll call you back in an hour.”
Xichen turns his head enough to squint up at Nie Mingjue as his partner clicks something on his phone and tosses it away in favor of leaning down to press lingering kisses to his temple.
“How long —” Lan Xichen coughs around a painfully dry throat. Nie Mingjue kisses him again before he sits up to reach for his canteen with his free hand and unscrews the cap with a deft flick of his fingers.
“Just a few hours, don’t worry,” he says. Lan Xichen picks his head up enough to let his partner trickle a thin stream of blessedly cool water past his lips. “Zixuan and Yanli have woken up. They’re pretty disoriented and Wen Qing has already declared them permanently unfit for active flight duty, which we all figured. But they’ll live so it’s up to them what they want to do next. Wangji and Wuxian are resting, my orders. Zonghui and Huaisang are holding off the press as best as they can until we can draft up a statement about…whatever the fuck we’re going to do next.”
Xichen hums and squeezes Nie Mingjue’s knee, presses a kiss to Jin Guangyao’s warm forehead. He takes the moment to appreciate how perfectly smooth it is in sleep as it never really is when he’s awake, when his brow is nearly always furrowed in concentration.
“What is it A-Yao and I need to know about?” he asks, curious despite the heaviness still clinging at the edges of his mind (the aftereffects of the medicine Wen Qing had given him, he’s sure).
Nie Mingjue clears his throat and lifts Lan Xichen’s hand from his knee to press lingering, near-worshipful kisses to his knuckles.
“I want Wei Wuxian to convert Sparks into a three-man Jaeger…For us.”
The first thought that Lan Xichen can’t help but think is that that will go down like a lead balloon. Jin Guangshan would never allow —
Well. What Jin Guangshan would or would not allow doesn’t matter at all anymore, does it?
The second thought that follows on its heels is that it is, of course, the most logical solution to their conundrum. Sparks Amidst Snow is a brand new, top of the line Jaeger, already kitted out with as many weapons and mobility modifications as can be reasonably fit into (or onto) a single piece of machinery while retaining its efficiency. The unique shape of Lotus Spider was a choice the Jiang siblings all made together to accommodate the uniqueness of their fighting styles, three distinctly different pilots sharing a single form that can rotate and adjust to whichever of the three is in control at any given time. A three-man Jaeger doesn’t have to be built like that, it doesn’t have to move like Lotus Spider does. A three-man Jaeger can simply be the same machines that they’ve all been piloting since the beginning of this war. There’s no reason they shouldn’t use Sparks Amidst Snow — now completely pilotless — to solve a logistical problem so neatly.
What he says is, “Oh. She’ll need repainting.”
Nie Mingjue laughs, sudden and unexpected, and Lan Xichen smiles sleepily as his partner leans over their boyfriend again to kiss his temple and his cheek in a quick flurry of desperate, scratchy little pecks.
“I love you,” Nie Mingjue murmurs against his skin. “You scared the shit out of me, A-Huan. I’m sorry I scared you first.”
Lan Xichen closes his eyes again and hums, apology and forgiveness in one (not that Nie Mingjue had needed to ask his forgiveness anyway).
“Now that I’m awake we need only worry about A-Yao together.”
Nie Mingjue pulls back to blow out a gusty sigh and slide gingerly down to lie flat, his arm joining Lan Xichen’s slung over Jin Guangyao’s waist, their hands resting on opposite hips to hold him evenly between them.
“Wen-daifu took a look at him after she knocked you out, said he’s pretty fried. He’ll be fine!” Nie Mingjue hurries to reassure; Lan Xichen assumes his expression twisted with a suitable amount of alarm for the situation. “He just needs to sleep like Qionglin said, we all do. If A-Sang hadn’t come and found us I would have lost it, you came extremely close to losing it, and A-Yao shut down instead of losing it. It’s exactly what Wen Qing told you — we opened ourselves up to the Drift but we haven’t strengthened our connection at all since then. We’re much weaker apart than we are together, we have to start acting like it.”
“Darling, I already might as well live in your pocket,” Lan Xichen sighs. Nie Mingjue snorts and glances down at Jin Guangyao with a little smile.
“Well you and A-Yao can live in my pockets if you want but it’s not my brain, and apparently that’s where I need you to be.”
Lan Xichen hums again with a smile he hides in Jin Guangyao’s hair. It slips off his lips again quickly though as he thinks about what they’ll have to accomplish before they can begin their prescribed Drift sessions.
“Oh gods..the press, Mingjue. What on earth are we going to tell the press? What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to come clean. About all of it.”
Lan Xichen looks up at his partner with wide eyes — the truth is..not very pretty, nor flattering or reassuring, he has to say, so long as Nie Mingjue means what he thinks he does. Dealing with the public is an exercise in extremely careful half-truths that help to quell panic rather than incite it. They play a delicate balancing act, every single Shatterdome does, even Wen Ruohan in Tokyo. If he told the general population about the majority of the experiments he conducts, or the way he was burning (probably still is burning) all of his pilots to the ground as quickly as humanly possible to achieve the record-breaking stats his program boasts then there would be repercussions. Even someone as callous as Wen Ruohan knows the value in being circumspect when public opinion is in question.
Nie Mingjue, his beloved straightforward and honest-to-a-fault Mingjue, doesn’t have…quite the same sense of self-preservation when he elects to speak his mind.
“We don’t have to,” Lan Xichen whispers and nearly feels Lan Qiren’s reproving glare all the way from Gusu for daring to imply that the unvarnished truth is anything less than the best possible path forward. It goes against every single one of his childhood lessons, it goes against the typical true north of his own moral compass — but he also can’t bear the thought of Shanghai being thrown into even more chaos now on the heels of such an alarming battle as the one they’ve just fought. They have rebuilding to do, injuries to treat, there isn’t time for the leadership and ethics of the Shatterdome that keeps tens of millions of people safe to be called into question. Nie Mingjue is already tied up nearly every hour of the day in meetings to discuss strategy, provisions, research, everything of import with the leaders of every numerous government and military agency responsible for monitoring their operation. He won’t have time for even more such meetings, or to stop them altogether in favor of damage control with the public, and they have a war to fight —
There just isn’t time —
“Whoa. A-Huan, breathe. Don’t make me get Wen-daifu back in here to knock you out again.”
Lan Xichen sucks in a deep breath he hadn’t realized he needed and his vision clears of a handful of little black spots that he blinks away a few times quickly for good measure.
“What the hell just happened?” Nie Mingjue demands, and only because Lan Xichen knows him so well does he hear the concern in what could so easily be read as anger.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps instead of answering and closes his eyes as Nie Mingjue leans over Jin Guangyao again to kiss his forehead. “Such transparency simply seems like a recipe for disaster.”
“So does continuing to lie,” Nie Mingjue shrugs, though the tension in his clenched jaw belies his nerves. “At least if we tell them and I wind up forced to resign then..well. We can figure it out. I don’t think I will, though. I’m not saying it’ll be easy but it’ll be..better.”
It’s painfully clear that Nie Mingjue has already made up his mind, and Lan Xichen knows better than almost anyone that once he has there’s really no changing it. The best option now is simply to hold on tightly and hope for the best but prepare for the worst, and know that in the end he’ll still have his family and the men he loves.
Nie Mingjue kisses him again, a consolation, and when he tells him to trust him and just go back to sleep to keep recovering, there’s really no better option except to do as he’s told and let the future sort itself out.
–//–
Shanghai is never so quiet.
The wind whistles through the rubble of buildings not yet cleared away after the latest battle. The lonesome cries of the first few seabirds brave enough to return to a place that still reeks of Kaiju viscera echo strangely through the too-open crowded space.
The sounds of construction a few blocks closer to the harbor have ceased, and the crowd waiting beneath the hastily-erected podium in the midst of all of the destruction is eerily still and silent. Lan Xichen would have expected them to be clamoring for information, reporters and civilians alike shouting their questions over each other, trying to get their own answers first and damn anyone else.
He hadn’t expected this…this silent vigil, this watchful waiting that puts his hackles up and makes his skin crawl with the desire to stride up to the microphone and say something — anything — that would slice through the tension. How desperately he wants to say whatever would pacify the masses gathered to hear this first official address from the Shanghai Shatterdome on the shocking events of the last battle that are, by now, common knowledge nearly everywhere in the world.
The basic facts as everyone knows them are thus:
Category 5 Kaiju have arrived.
Jin Guangshan is dead.
Jin Zixuan flew with Jiang Yanli, and they barely survived.
Shanghai has something — many things, important things — that they haven’t disclosed.
A rustling behind Lan Xichen creates an echo of the same in the gathered crowd, a great fluttering of overcoats in the wind, an uneasy shuffling of feet, and a swelling susurrus of whispers as weary footsteps thud on the stairs up to the platform on which Shanghai Shatterdome’s remaining active-duty pilots and (most of the) high-ranking members of staff are already assembled.
Lan Xichen takes a deep breath in and finds steady comfort in his brother standing at his right hand with Jin Guangyao at his left as, a few paces away at the center of the stage, Jin Zixuan makes his slow, careful way through their ranks to step up to the microphone.
Jin Zixuan clears his throat and visibly squares his shoulders before he leans in ever so slightly to begin.
“First and foremost, the leadership, the pilots, and all ground crew of the Shanghai Shatterdome wish to extend a heartfelt apology to the citizens of Shanghai for the losses of the last battle. You have our every sympathy. Please know that we are working tirelessly to deliver every reparation possible to everyone who suffered damages or loss as quickly as we can.” Jin Zixuan’s amplified voice rings through the silence from speakers haphazardly placed amongst the rubble; all it does is emphasize how worn out he still sounds even a full week after waking in the bittersweet aftermath of his victory.
“Secondly, we would like to thank the citizens of Shanghai and beyond for extending their condolences for the loss of my father and my cousin, and their well-wishes for mine and Pilot Jiang Yanli’s swift recoveries from our injuries.
“There have been many questions since the battle against this latest Kaiju, and many more rumors. We thank you for your patience as we decided on the best course of action to communicate with you going forward, and today we hope that our attempts to do so will be well-received.”
From his spot in the front row just behind the podium, Lan Xichen studies the faces of those closest to the stage and, for perhaps the first time in his life, isn’t entirely sure how to interpret what he finds. He can only hope that Shanghai’s loyalty to their Pilots and their ‘dome will carry them through learning exactly what’s been going on behind closed doors.
“That being said, the first order of business is to announce that I will no longer be serving you as a Pilot in active duty. The injuries I sustained a week ago are too deep to allow me to continue to fly, as are my..my wife’s —” There is a bit of a stir amongst the crowd at that, though it’s much more muted than the reaction of the shatterdome to the same news two days prior. (Jin Zixuan had gotten onto the loudspeakers mere moments after their union was made binding and announced to the entire population of the ‘dome that he and Jiang Yanli had been married under Nie Mingjue’s authority. The [good-natured] uproar throughout the ‘dome had been a sight to see.)
“My former co-pilot has died, while my current co-pilot and I are too injured to serve you in the capacity that we would otherwise wish to. In light of this, I will put aside my armor and my status as a Pilot to take my late father’s place as one of the leaders of Shanghai Shatterdome. I hope you will find me to be an adequate successor.”
Jin Zixuan allows that statement to hang just long enough for a fresh round of whispers — he’d said ‘one of’, after all, and until now no one has known that Shanghai even had more than one. Before the whispers can grow out of hand, though, there comes the telltale heavy thump of footsteps Lan Xichen would recognize anywhere, behind him and to the left as Jin Zixuan’s had been. With an effort, Lan Xichen forces himself not to turn to look at his partner as he makes his own careful way up to the platform.
“This brings me to a second matter of great importance that must be cleared up before any further announcements are made. My father was not, as we claimed, the sole leader of this Shatterdome. He was, in fact, little more than a figurehead for the press and a financial backer to the true martial leader of Shanghai, who has been content — until now — to let his work remain unacknowledged.
“I hope that you all remember the tireless efforts and sacrifices of the Mach 1 pilot Chifeng-Zun, Nie Mingjue —” Jin Zixuan pauses as a gasp, amplified by every mouth, hisses through the crowd. In the expectant hush that follows it, Nie Mingjue’s footsteps on the rickety metal platform sound like the steady pounding of a drum, inexorable as he approaches the podium and appearing to be every inch the soldier he’s always been. Lan Xichen curls his fingers tightly around Jin Guangyao’s when they slip into his palm, the pair of them squeezing each other’s hands tightly enough that Lan Xichen is sure their knuckles are white.
“Nie Mingjue has devoted his life to the protection of Shanghai in the years since his retirement from active duty, and we believed it was time you knew exactly to whom you should continue to look for guidance in the future.”
Jin Zixuan steps aside after accepting a (relatively) gentle shoulder clap from Nie Mingjue that seems to take genuine effort to remain standing upright through. Mo Xuanyu hurries forward to support Jin Zixuan as he steps away from the microphone, and Lan Xichen tries his hardest not to panic at the thought of all of the civilians watching this seeing how weakened he still is.
The uncertain muttering of the audience cuts off abruptly into a reverent hush as Nie Mingjue clears his throat in preparation to speak.
For an endless moment, the world is still and silent again. For the first time in half a decade, Nie Mingjue stands straight and proud at the head of the people who live or die at his word and in front of the people they all live or die for in return.
Nie Mingjue lets the silence linger just long enough to become uncomfortable before he curls his broad hands around the side of the podium and leans forward, closer to the microphone.
“Citizens of Shanghai,” he begins, his words falling like stones into the collective hush. “I won’t insult you by pretending that you don’t have a reason to doubt us. I won’t pretend that everything that has ever happened under our roof has been honest, or fair, or even good. I won’t pretend that I’m perfect, or that anyone in my employ is either. Of course you have reason to doubt us.
“But I will tell you this — your safety and the safety of your friends, your families, anyone you know and everyone you don’t, has been my highest priority since the day I was able to once again take up the work my father and I started out to do. I have never truly retired, or forgotten my responsibility to you.”
Lan Xichen takes a deep breath in and forces himself to just hold Jin Guangyao’s hand rather than clutch at it like a lifeline. Jin Guangyao rubs a few slow little circles into the back of his palm in silent understanding; they’d both helped Nie Mingjue write this speech, and every single soul in the shatterdome who relies on Nie Mingjue is crucially invested in seeing this press conference turn the tide of public opinion back in their favor after the speculations and fear of the past week. Everyone is waiting on pins and needles to see how this will be received.
Nie Mingjue clears his throat again into the silence.
A lone gull cries overhead, sudden and piercing.
“We’ll be releasing an in-depth statement to the press shortly, but for now, in the interest of transparency, I will tell you what you may already suspect. You now know that Jin Zixuan successfully operated Sparks Amidst Snow with Jiang Yanli — as has already become clear to you, this means that things are changing. The Kaiju are coming faster, and they’re getting bigger, smarter. You’ve seen these changes for yourselves, and you must understand that the way we do battle has to change along with our foe. To that end, we have —”
Lan Xichen’s attempt to not crush his boyfriend’s fingers turns out to have been in vain as Nie Mingjue stops with an irritated sigh that the microphone picks up and amplifies for everyone in attendance to hear.
“Oh fuck this,” Nie Mingjue mutters and Lan Xichen’s heart drops as he glances down at Jin Guangyao to find him already covering his eyes with his free hand, his fakest, most placating smile frozen in place beneath it. Nie Mingjue had promised to let them help him come up with the right things to say if he was going to insist on airing out the ‘dome’s dirty laundry for everyone in Shanghai to see, but they’d known asking him to deliver a lengthy speech that attempts to soften at least some of the blows would be…a tall order. Still, there were at least hopes that he would make it through most of their points before he gave up.
“For god’s sake, he didn’t even make it five minutes,” Jin Guangyao laments, long-suffering but not sounding at all surprised as Nie Mingjue goes so far as to chuck the tablet with his carefully-written speech off the podium so he can’t even see it, the device clunking and clattering against the metal stage to stop at Jin Zixuan’s feet.
Lan Xichen unbends his rigorous posture enough to lean down and put his lips close to Jin Guangyao’s ear to prevent them being read as he says, “We should punish him quite thoroughly for breaking his promise this evening,” and earn himself a playful slap to the hip, below where the cameras are pointed.
“The point is that we’ve shuffled up the pilot teams as an experiment and it was successful, so we’re going to keep doing it,” Nie Mingjue says, short and brusquely efficient in his usual way. “We’re redesigning the jaegers, upgrading weapons, outfitting the old mechs for new teams. We know why we’re facing increased Kaiju attacks but it’s too late to stop it — the damage is done so our job now is to stop it from getting any worse. In his time as the head of this ‘dome, Jin Guangshan funded our operation with black market money and colluded with criminals of all sorts to keep fattening his wallet – I don’t doubt he’s paid plenty of people to keep their mouths shut about it. But I don’t care if they come forward now, I don’t care what anyone says anymore, I only care about what I always have. I care about ending this goddamn war!”
Lan Xichen takes a half-step forward (to restrain his partner or comfort him as he gets more worked up he doesn’t know), but before he can step out of line the silence erupts, the buildings and rubble echoing not with the condemning cry of the crows and gulls but with shouting, cheering, with the rumbling roar of enthusiastic support Lan Xichen would never have expected from a city full of people who’ve just been told they’ve been consistently and comprehensively lied to by the very people they’ve trusted to keep them safe for so long.
“Let it never be said that da-ge isn’t charismatic enough to accomplish feats we mere mortals may only dream of,” Jin Guangyao drawls, dry as a bone, and Lan Xichen finds that all he can do is laugh rather helplessly. He watches in awe as the crowd picks up a chant, not of Nie Mingjue’s name (that would really just be too much), but a much more palatable and generic cry of ‘End the war! End the war!’ that follows them all the way off the platform and through the city as they traipse the few blocks between the wreckage and the phalanx of armored cars waiting to hurry them all back to the shatterdome.
“Don’t start, I already know,” Nie Mingjue says the moment they’re in their own car, Lan Xichen behind the wheel to leave Jin Guangyao free to begin their scolding as soon as possible.
“ONE speech Mingjue!!!” Jin Guangyao cries the second he’s slammed his door shut. “You just had to give one speech!!”
“It was going to be an hour long, minimum!!” Nie Mingjue retorts. “When I said you could write it I didn’t say you could write me a goddamn novel!”
Lan Xichen clicks the blinker on to pull into the middle of the formation and waves genially to Wei Wuxian in the passenger seat of another SUV beside them, Lan Wangji looking entirely at ease behind the wheel and Jiang Wanyin squeezed between the Wen siblings in the backseat.
“I hate you. I’m going to strangle you,” Jin Guangyao announces to the car at large rather matter-of-factly. Lan Xichen sighs as his boyfriend climbs into their partner’s lap to curl his hands around his neck.
“A-Yao darling, save the foreplay for our quarters,” he says over his shoulder, and at least Nie Mingjue snorts a laugh so he must not be getting choked out too hard.
Lan Xichen does his best to ignore their roughhousing that seems to be equal parts genuine frustration with each other and foreplay (of a particular sort that he can admit he doesn’t enjoy nearly as much as they do) and focuses instead on getting them safely through the city so they can back to their jobs. Jin Guangyao will have more to do with the press over the next few days, especially since Nie Mingjue…didn’t actually say anything they’d really planned to take to the public, but perhaps that’s for the best. For now, at least, the public has been addressed, cleanup has begun with a coordinated effort between extra engineers from the ‘dome and the various disaster relief groups in the city, and they can relax for a day or two as everyone recuperates properly and returns to business as usual, as much as they can with a leadership change and a major restructuring of the Pilot assignments.
“Oh my god,” Lan Xichen murmurs as he pulls to a stop at the end of the same courtyard where he and his fellow pilots from Tokyo had been greeted upon arriving in Shanghai.
Much like that day, the press are crowded close to the barriers demarcating the boundary of the shatterdome’s grounds, snapping photos of the returning crew and shouting out questions that will go unanswered. Also in attendance is someone waiting beneath the eaves of the first warehouse’s roof to receive them, but considering Jin Guangyao is currently being crushed under Nie Mingjue’s weight to prevent him from getting too bitey, the welcoming party is…a little different than when Lan Xichen had stepped foot in Shanghai.
“What? What’s wrong?” Nie Mingjue asks over Jin Guangyao’s muffled shouts of, “You fucking lug get off of me!!”
Lan Xichen doesn’t answer, afraid if he doesn’t move quickly they’ll get away, slip off into the crowd to never be seen again. He pops open his door and leaps smoothly down to the ground to stride across the no-man’s land, the shouting of the press hemming him in on every side, though he does his best to ignore it.
“Zewu-Jun. I believe we have some unfinished business.”
Lan Xichen takes a deep breath in and takes note of the restraining grip Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen have on Xue Yang’s wrists caught between them, though he doesn’t really look capable of escape at the moment. Behind their shoulders is a girl blowing a neon yellow chewing gum bubble between her chomping on it, regarding him with wary suspicion that he must admit he shares — she’s young but she looks sharp in the way of anyone who’s had to fight every single day simply to survive, and if she’s here with the Immortals and Xue Yang there’s no telling which of them she’s more like in the end.
From behind him, Lan Xichen hears several car doors open and slam shut again, the scuffle of boots on the pavement as their entourage joins them with an uneasy murmur for their unexpected guests.
“Yes,” he tells Xiao Xingchen with a gesture for them to head inside ahead of him. “I believe we do.”
#the untamed fanfic#3zun#pacific rim au#background xuanli#background/implied songxuexiao#Lan Xichen#Jin Guangyao#Nie Mingjue#Wen Ning#Wen Qing
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"Is it weird to call my teacher dad?"
.... and the unforeseen consequences of informally adopting every child you come across.
Wei Wuxian, facing the twice-mothly assembled mob of cultivators at his doorstop: "Can I help you?"
-distant explosion and screaming-
Enter Mo Xuanyu with much shorter hair than he had this morning: "Daaaaad, I mean Senior Wei look at what Xue Yang did to my hair!!!!"
Xue Yang -still clutching the smoldering remains of whatever talisman they were fooling with-: "You promised you wouldn't tell!"
Mob of cultivators: confused pikachu.jpg
Meanwhile Lan Wangji is in the background, meditating as if nothing's happening. A-Yuan is quietly sitting next to him, chewing on his forehead ribbon. A Lan elder complains that only parents, spouses and children are allowed to touch the ribbon, and Lan Wangji calmly says A-Yuan is his son.
Now imagine, after that bombshell has died down a little, someone from the Jin side making a comment about how much Mo Xuanyu looks like the Jin main family and Mo Xuanyu stops trying to put Xue Yang in a headlock long enough to yell back that he wouldn't know seeing as his father literally abandoned him and his mother to die.
Xue Yang, feral cat that he is, starts describing in vivid detail what he will do to said father should he ever come forward…
The gossip spreads, because of course it does, and funnily enough Jin Guangshanis found dead at the bottom of Koi Tower's steps a few days later. Xue Yang is the most obvious suspect but it's rather suspicious how well Jin Guangyao and Madam Jin are getting along these days…
The fact that Xue Yang canonicaly shows affection by stabbing those who are mean to his loved ones is an untapped source of endless comedy in my opinion.
Imagine Xue Yang trying to justify himself to a disapproving Lan Wangji and he's all "I don't know, I just stab anyone who's pissed off me or someone I like, or if they try to take someone I like away from me."
Cue Lan Wangji remembering his bitey child days, when several of his teachers ended up with teeth marks on their arms, and that very memorable occasion when he tried to bite Nie Mingjue after deciding he was spending too much time with Lan Xichen.
Or better yet, teenage!Xue Yang at his most obstinate mood, glaring up at Lan Wangji and only saying: "He was rude to Senior Wei!" about his latest stab victim. Lan Wangji cannot find it in himself to disapprove of this thought process. Which unfortunately means that Wei Wuxian has (to his eternal despair, and he would like to point out that he absolutely did NOT sign up for this) to be the one enforcing discipline.
The thought also occurs that between Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Wen Ning, Wen Qing and the murder gremlins, if anyone looks at A-Yuan wrong will never be found dead or alive or in one piece…. A-Yuan grows up blissfully unaware that he has an entire army of parents/aunts/uncles/siblings behind him. He just thinks nothing bad ever happens. And let's not even forget the ghost aunties. Or that (tragically underused) ghost lady that Wei Wuxian summons once and literally never again (unfair!)? She's always tailing behind A-Yuan and he's so used to the presence of ghosts that he doesn't even notice her looming over his shoulder. Juniors from other sects are less….comforted by her presence. She's his self-appointed chaperone
It doesn't take long for her (and the other ghost aunties) to decide they actually have four baby nephews to look after - and no amount of bitching from Jin Ling is going to get rid of them. It's either Ghost-jie or Mo Xuanyu to supervise them. And where Mo Xuanyu is, Xue Yang is not far behind so…
No nighthunting would get done with these two around. They are too fond of shenanigans.
As always co-authored with/enabled by @sswangxian
#getting a new sibling#older brother#the untamed#yilling wei#wei wuxian#xue yang#mo xuanyu#unexpected side effects of parenting#xue yang went off on his own once#came back with mo xuanyu#and was like#can i keep him?#he followed me home#a-yuan has a few very confused years#where he thinks that means#wwx did promise to grown him some on the raddish patch...
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Crossover - MDZS + Twisted Wonderland
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Backstory: the MDZS cast was transported to the twisted wonderland world by a talisman or from a gathering nighthunag or with an ancient artifact. Though, when they get back it’s where they started so it’s a pause on their world. This will be taken place after all the overblots actually. ENJOY!~~
Twisted Wonderland Part 4:
Octavinelle Dorm:
Azul:
He gonna try to do contracts.
No questions asked.
Most likely be “besties” with Nie Huasiang but literally are business partners scheming
Jiang Cheng gonna get weird vibes from Azul
Azul will most likely get adopted by Wei Wuxian.
Cause he can tell from what Yuu said about each of these students strifes, he gonna see himself in them or the rest of the older MDZS cast will
Nie Huasiang also adopted Azul lmao~!
Azul gonna be put in the ritual of adoption by Wei Wuxian
He will be intrigue by the recipe and laws of the cultivation world
Will be gently persuaded to go on a sword ride with Jingyi
Jingyi be befriending them go BRRRRRRRRR
Definitely gonna have to see wangxian in action and will be blushy and embarrassment
Azul: Mr. Wei. Must you be so touchy like that in public?
Wei Wuxian: aww~!! Does Azul’er wanna be given affections be me~!
Azul: …
He actually likes the affection and will play it off like Jin Ling lmao
He finally getting loved and Wei Wuxian will help him with his past demons
Cause both had snide remarks form their past and runouts too
Jin Ling will notice this also, cause baby been bullied from losing his parents
He will befriend Azul
Azul will still be the same but a lot more happier.
Knowing that there are more people willing to help
Precious baby will get scared from Wei Ying dramatic storytelling on ghouls and such
Azul will wanna cuddle with someone
Will enjoy seeing Floyd suffer from Wei Wuxian spicy food
It’s good but it’s too spicy
Azul will never admit he enjoys the company of the war veterans at all
Basically sees them as father figures or uncle figures
Gonna be curious about Wen Ning and will bond
Lan Xichen is his go to for helping his nightmares and in need of advices
Lan Xichen being the happy guardian of all these kid just from helping
Definitely gonna be involved with Wei Wuxian shenanigans
It’s cute
He loves the bunnies whenever visiting the ramshackle dorm
Is a bit careful around Lan Qiren and like riddle, will learn all 4000+ rules to not upset the old goat
I don’t think I mention Riddle actually learned the infamous Gusu rules have I? Welp! Now you know~!
Definitely will snicker seeing Leona shoved in the ground as Wei Wuxian burying him
Calling him his little grumpy radish until Azul was forced to be buried
Now Leona is laughing at him
Will be embarrassed when Wei Wuxian babies them all (even though Leona is like 20–)
He enjoys all their companies and will wanna hang out more
Jade:
Oh no. Just an oh no.
Jade will go OhUhUhUhU~!!! Then an OyA oYa~!
Gonna freak Jiang Cheng out
Put Lan Xichen on guard
Lan Wangji about to sliced any arm limbs and such (I think he likes cutting everyone arms or any limbs on the arms when protecting his WiFi)
No doubt Jade will get Info on these new beings until he gets what info he needs for Azul
Wei Wuxian being the shameless man he is, literally adopted the Tweels before they had a say
Jade is amused by the multitude of bunnies and being buried
Wei Wuxian heard from Yuu Jade likes Mushroom so he just babies him calling Jade his “little mushroom seedling”
Jade loves it. He loves it when Wei Wuxian babies him in the damn dirt
Being called little mushroom was a whole notha level
Lan Wangji lowered his guard but with pre-cautions
Wei Wuxian got Jade to help him in his shenanigans igians
Lan Qiren is about to qi deviate one way or another soon
None of the kiddos know about Lan Qiren almost qi deviating and of the shenanigans Wei Ying done before
Until now, told by Wei Wuxian and begrudgingly Jiang Cheng
Jade is INVESTED
He is curious on the herbs, techniques, stories, culture, cultivation itself, and the many theories Wei Wuxian has
Azul is also invested
Wei Wuxian messy notes and demonstrations for the NRC bois be like seeing a live action awesome lab
Jade definitely amuses Wei Wuxian and even happy
Wen Ning and Jade meeting with each other was a bit….strange
On one hand, Wen Ning is cautious of this tweel knowing from the many runouts he heard when body guarding the first years/ Junior quartet
Jade is intrigue and wanting to know more about this famed ghost general who was revived as a fierce corpse and the first to be able to gain consciousness
Wen Ning is basically neutral and just decides to protect Wei Ying growing ducklings
May once or twice spotted in the greenhouse when looking over Ace and Jingyi from Jade
It was ackwards..
Both got to know each other by the herbs
Wen Ning even taught Jade some healing techniques
Jade is happy boi
He got an adult figure who is sane and fun at the same time
Floyd:
Floyd is ELATED
New people to squeeze!~~
Yeah no.
No squeezing them cause one. Two are married. Two. Jiang Cheng is not very touchy and will electrocute Floyd to sashimi. Three. Lans are very conservative with super strength and also their forehead ribbon cause Floyd loves to hug from the behind as a surprise
He definitely got nicknames and put the rest on guard
He hasn’t seen much of Nie Huasiang cause Nie Huasiang be having tea parties and conversing with the NRC staffs with Azul on tow
Definitely adopted.
Wei Wuxian you little shameless man.
Got buried in bunnies and in the ground
Prefers the bunnies over the ground
He can’t move that’s why
Definitely loves the platonic or familial affections from Wei Wuxian
Has tried to squeeze Jin Ling and Ouyang since they’re not on the list of who not to squeeze multiple times
Jiang Cheng ain’t happy though
He can’t sit still and made Lan Qiren choke up blood comically two to three times a week
He was amused so he pester the old man
Wei Wuxian is laughing while Lan Xichen worriedly attends to his Shifu or uncle
Floyd living best life and even tried to catch the elusive ghost general
Enjoys the stories and will hitch a ride on a spiritual sword (Jingyi somehow)
Definitely happy and with his mood swings the cast can handle it well
It’s just like dealing with a certain Xue or Wen Chao
Except Floyd is on a neutral or good list
—————————————————
Hope y’all enjoyed part 4~! It was a struggle to think…Scarabia and maybe Pomifiore will be next if I can have space lmao~! Bye~!!!!!!!’
#twisted wonderland#mdzs#mdzs crossover#mdzsxtwistwonderland#twisted wonderland crossover#twst azul#twst floyd#twst jade#wei wuxian#lan jingyi#jin ling#lan sizhui#ouyang zizhen#lan wangji#lan xichen#lan qiren#jiang cheng#twst first years#mdzs juniors#nie huaisang#chaos#bunnies and burying#wen ning
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Wangningxian Dream Bunny
I keep having these elaborate dreams lately that make me wanna write fics, but I AM TOO BUSY. So feel free to steal this idea, anyone out there, although there are plenty of ridiculous ~Dream Details that make NO SENSE for these characters, but whatever, enjoy it for what it is!
Immortal cultivators au where Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying, Wen Ning, and Lan Zhan have lived at least a few hundred years by now. It is decidedly AU because Wangxian are not a thing, and WWX and JC have a decent enough relationship with one another at this point. JC has stayed basically in Lotus Pier but the rest travel around the world. LZ ended up in the Americas at some point being worshipped as a dream God??
Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are constantly longing from afar. LZ thinks WY loves WN (and, I mean, he does, but neither of them have ever said it or acted on it, because WY can still be oblivious and WN knows WY loves LZ, plus being a corpse and all figures he can't have what he wants). WY and WN travel together and they run into LZ pretty frequently, sorta book-Aziraphale/Crowley-esque. Mostly LZ is polite to WN, but also just kinda ignores him at first, and tries not to think about him because they both love WY, and he thinks he's chosen WN and wants to respect that but also is sad about it. But over the centuries grows to care for WN without really realising how much.
WY and WN come across LZ when he's in the Americas somehow and WY is sorta in lustful disbelief over how much skin his dream God get up shows. And LZ is mostly past his hangups about his body, because that's just how you dress among these ppl. But having WY see him like that??? So he scurries off to cover up and for some reason WN was there (like even tho LZ was the one hanging out with these ppl, they were at WY's place...? Actually, I'm wondering if WY was the sleep god in a different city and the two were brought together for some ceremony or something?? Idk.) And at first, intellectually, LZ is like it's no big deal if WN sees me like this because I barely even notice his existence, right? Except he's getting all ear blushing and hot and uncomfortable and has to lock himself away to get dressed and has this 'oh no I'm into WN' moment.
I forget what happened exactly, except I think at some point the two of them talked about how they both loved WY, but he never responded to their overtures/only wanted them as friends, but they're stupidly devoted to him. And LZ gave him a very small smile, and they hugged? And LZ thought about how good WN felt in his arms.
WY meanwhile has been over the years working on trying to fix WN so that he has more mobility and sensation, can enjoy food and drink, etc. That's why they travel so extensively, seeking out other forms of magic.
Later, LZ ends up back in China to find that WN is in trouble. I don't know why WY wasn't with him, but even though it's been a few hundred years (I wanna say 250-350), because some cultivators lived longer lives, ppl still remember the YP and his Ghost General, and want revenge. JC was actually decent in my dreams, hilarious given how much I hate him, but he kept trying to reason with the ppl. He's respected and wealthy and powerful, but every time he tries to explain about what WY and the Wens went through, all the rich lords were always like omg, we are so sick of hearing your war stories, boomer.
They're going to put WN on trial and LZ hears about this and starts panicking and JC is unwilling to actually go so far as to fight for WN's life. And LZ can't just hurt all these ppl, plus he thinks anyhow this is still plaguing WN this far down the line and they need to do something to make him safe permanently.
So LZ starts coming up with a plan to like humanise WN in their eyes during the trial. Because all the old stories are about his cold, white, unfeeling and stiff skin, his inhuman black eyes, his scary expressionless face as he tore ppl apart, that he was a weapon in humanoid form. And WY has made a lot of strides, plus LZ came back to China with his own ideas to share with them. He has a medicine or lotion or something that makes WN able to move his facial features more. He visits WN to talk about his plans and walk him through it. They agree not to try to reach WY because he'll go all YP on everyone and reinforce their beliefs and make everything worse. WN tries to tell him if things go wrong, he should just leave, but LZ promises he'll save him no matter what. It gets pretty close to a confession of love tbh, face touching and shuddering breaths, etc.
They're making WN wear these weird robes that I think are meant to be demeaning because they only come just below his knee and they have short sleeves and a scooped neck which show off a lot of skin. But LZ points out that it shows that his flesh has become more naturally colored over the years and looks more supple now especially with the lotion. They've also broken his feet and as much as LZ wants to heal him, he also wants the crowd to see that WN is actually experiencing pain over having to walk like that.
The day of the trial comes and WY has somehow found out and comes rushing into try to do something about it. He comes up short at the door where JC stops him and tells him to just watch and wait. WY is in a panic especially when he notices LZ is at the head of the room like he is somehow part of the trial. Of course WY trusts him at this point but he doesn't realize how close LZ and WN have become over recent years and still thinks that LZ has some sort of weird antagonism towards WN.
Then WN comes in and WY feels sick to see him like this, and at first there are a couple pointed jeers about what he is wearing. However as he starts to make his way across the room and up the stairs on his broken feet, they are starting to hear more and more sympathetic comments about how he looks in pain and how they hadn't expected him to look so normal and so human.
WY notices that LZ looks almost proud of the way WN carries himself, and how WN keeps darting looks at LZ that are sorta sweetly hopeful. And at one point he stumbled and bites his lip but still cries in pain as he's reaching the top of the stairs and the magistrate puts a hand out to stop LZ from going to him. But LZ just gives him one of his murderous glares and goes over to sweep WN up in his arms with his hands around his waist and kind of swings him around and smiles down before settling him carefully in his own seat, and WN smiles up at him showing off the mobility of his face.
And like the people of the town know enough to know who LZ is and that he is one of the most highly venerated Immortal cultivators ever, and they've also seen all of this artwork of him where he never shows any facial expressions, so now they're seeing him smiling and embracing WN, who has now shown pain and emotion, and who is smiling back. And they are thinking if someone like the Great HGJ is looking at the GG like that, then there is no way that all the horrible things they have heard about him can be true. And WY is having his own crisis where it feels like his heart is atrophying in his chest watching them, and seeing they clearly love one another (while WY, my dear oblivious boy, does absolutely not put together the fact that both of them have been looking at him like that for literally hundreds of years.)
The trial got dismissed pretty quickly after that, even though the magistrate was not happy about it. I think there still might have been a few cultivators kicking around at the time even though that practice had mostly fallen out and the emperor was hoping to show that cultivation was clearly a thing of the past and getting rid of WN would be a very loud symbol of that. However between the threat of having four immortals present and not wanting this to happen, and the pressure of the townspeople who were now against this trial, there was no way it could go forward.
WN and LZ see WY trying to sneak out unnoticed and go after him. WY is trying not to look at them, especially with LZ carrying WN around bridal style because of his feet. But he's telling them how happy he is for them and how thankful he is to LZ for taking care of WN when he wasn't around. And also how happy he is to tell them that the reason he wasn't around was because he was researching this thing that would basically allow WN to be able to function mostly like a regular Immortal cultivator even though his body would remain that of a corpse. Meaning he would be able to feel sensation just like they did and taste things just like they did and move around more easily with greater flexibility like an immortal cultivator. And that maybe this can be a wedding gift for them.
And WN reaches out to touch WY's face make him look at them. And he sees how close WN and LZ have gotten to him. They both have these adoring if exasperated expressions on their faces. And WN says that it is an excellent gift for a wedding, and he can't wait to try it out with them both. And WY's eyes get gigantic looking back and forth between LZ's indulgent smile and WN's warm one.
And then there were all these bits with them travelling the world together for thousands of years and never parting again and it was super sweet, and also hot with this one scene using LZ's dream magic, but also just them all being disgusting in love, and always so gently affectionate and ugh.
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Almost All Alone Ch. 5
[read it on ao3]
Smoke burns Lan Zhan’s lungs as he begins to stir, but he doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor does he remember Wei Ying getting up and walking away from him. Lan Zhan doesn’t even remember laying down on the ground, but when he looks around, there’s nothing beyond charred furniture and flames. Somewhere in the house, glass breaks and Lan Zhan tries to stand, but his legs wobble underneath him.
“Wei Ying! Wei Ying-” Lan Zhan chokes and coughs as he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees. He’s supposed to stay low, he remembers that, it’ll be easier to breathe on the floor, but he can’t stay there, he’s supposed to be the one who makes sure everyone else gets out alive, he’s supposed to be the one who makes sure everyone else is alright. Once again, Lan Zhan tries to stand, but it feels as if something is keeping him down, grabbing at his arms and his legs just to keep him in place.
“You-You aren’t supposed to be here.” There’d only been black shadows and smoke before, but now, they bubble and tumble over themselves, taking the shape of a young man with long, dark hair and pale skin. For a second, Lan Zhan can’t remember his name, the roaring of the fire around them is too loud, even as the young man dares to come closer, unbothered by the flames and the smoke around them. “Jiejie said she was only going to scare you.” There’s an apologetic note to Wen Ning’s voice as he kneels down in front of Lan Zhan, as if he thinks he could have stopped Wen Qing, as if he hasn’t been helping her this whole time.
The flames dissipate underneath Wen Ning, rather than consuming him like they should, but they still strangle Lan Zhan, the smoke still makes his eyes water and his throat ache. It doesn’t seem fair, but whenever he tries to speak, whenever he tries to move, disappointing, frustrating nothing happens.
Nervously, Wen Ning looks over his shoulder, the shape of him faltering for just a minute. Wisps of smoke rise off of his shoulders and his hair before he becomes fully opaque again.
“Gongzi, please listen to me now,” Wen Ning’s voice is quiet and urgent all at once, “you’ll wake in just a little while, but my sister will burn the house down again soon. She won’t mean to do it, but she does it every time someone comes to stay here.” Distantly, they both hear a woman’s voice calling Wen Ning, and Lan Zhan feels his heart lurch up into his throat, his own hand squeezing tighter.
“We can help.” Lan Zhan croaks, his fingernails digging hard into the floorboards, scraping up ash and splinters. The words feel like shattered glass grinding against the inside of his throat, but Lan Zhan still tries, even as part of the ceiling caves in behind them. The house creaks and groans and Wen Ning flickers again, his mouth pressing into a fine line while his throat works.
“Our bodies, they’re-they’re buried on the property, but they aren’t mark-marked.” Wen Ning tries to speak carefully, but he still stutters and repeats himself, more and more wisps of smoke coming off of him while his fingertips turn black with soot. “My younger cousin tried to show you the way before, but he-he wanted to play with you instead.” Heat creeps higher and higher in the room and sweat begins to coat every inch of Lan Zhan until it feels as if that’s smothering him too, “Please don’t be angry with him, Gongzi, A-Yuan died very young, he doesn’t understand sometimes.” Lan Zhan blinks and coughs at Wen Ning the longer he talks, his eyes going wild as he silently pleads for Wen Ning to get to the point. “When my older cousins burned the house down, they put a needle in my sister’s forehead to make her sleep through it so they could get away with it. She thinks that everyone who stays in this house is part of a dream she’s having, if-if Gongzi pulls the needle out, she might wake up and it might fix everything.” The longer Wen Ning goes on, the faster he talks, as if he’s worried he’s running out of time. More and more wisps of smoke curl off of his clothes and black, ashy cracks start to show along his neck as his skin grows paler and paler.
Lan Zhan hadn’t noticed a needle in the middle of Wen Qing’s forehead when she’d shown herself in the mirror earlier, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there, not if she doesn’t know that it’s there. “Is that everything?” Lan Zhan rasps, forcing himself not to choke on the smoke like his body demands. Wen Ning’s body flickers again, making him see through for just a moment before he looks at Lan Zhan again, guilt seeming to cross his face.
“A-Yuan might like his toy back if it’s no trouble, he’s been asking us for it for a very long time, but I don’t need my medicine anymore, Gongzi. I don’t remember what I needed it for.” Wen Qing’s voice draws closer, as if it’s just in the next room and growing annoyed. Wen Ning glances back over his shoulder, his body stays transparent this time.
“Please tell the other gongzi that I’m sorry, I tried to get Jiejie to allow me to scare him, but she insisted.”
Above them comes the sound of a cracking support beam, the ceiling that it held up will follow soon after, but when Lan Zhan looks back for Wen Ning, he’s already gone and so is Wen Qing’s calling voice, leaving him alone in the burning house as the support beam finally breaks free and crashing towards him.
But Lan Zhan wakes long before it can crush him, dragging him up and out of Wei Ying’s lap with a scream that makes his already sore throat hurt. The night had been warm, he hadn’t even been chilled after Wei Ying pulled him out of the bath and into his warm arms, but Lan Zhan shivers and shakes as he looks around the room. It doesn’t look like the room that had been burning in his dream, it doesn’t even look close. Lan Zhan should take solace in that, but he can’t, not even when he hears Wei Ying calling to him, not even when he feels hands, warm hands, wrap around his shoulders to try and pull him back.
“Lan Zhan, what happened? What is it?” Wei Ying’s worried face is bathed in the glow of his laptop screen, but it’s too bright, Lan Zhan can’t look at him for too long.
“Why did you let me fall asleep?” There’s no use trying to keep the accusation out of his voice as he screws the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying hard to blot out the glow of Wei Ying’s laptop. When he’d fallen asleep, Wei Ying had been watching the video feed of the baby monitors, blue light glasses protecting his eyes from the glow, but now, those blue light glasses are on top of his head, holding his hair back. It doesn’t matter that falling asleep had given Lan Zhan some of the answers they needed, what matters is that Wei Ying had allowed him to sleep through his shift at the computer screen, what matters is that Wei Ying hasn’t slept yet. What matters is that it’s well past three in the morning and dark circles are burned underneath Wei Ying’s eyes. Despite himself, Lan Zhan can’t help but reach forward and press his hand against Wei Ying’s cheek, his thumb stroking back and forth underneath one of his eyes.
Wei Ying leans into his hand like a satisfied cat, just like he always does, but when he speaks, his voice is softer, “Don’t be mad, Lan Zhan, you just seemed so tired after the bath, I really only meant to let you sleep for an extra hour, but I lost track of time.” His explanation is honest enough, but Lan Zhan can’t help the hurt that spreads in his chest.
“Wei Ying thinks that I am too delicate and he has not slept because of it.” Slowly, the bright light from the laptop screen has grown bearable again, and Lan Zhan allows himself to draw closer.
“That’s not it, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying argues, one hand pressing hard against Lan Zhan’s side, “It’s because you’re not delicate that I had to let you sleep. I know you, Er-gege, if I didn’t let you fall asleep first, you would have done the same thing to me.”
His answer makes Lan Zhan frown, because he’s right, because he’d been planning on letting Wei Ying sleep against his shoulder while he worked, only to wake him with breakfast and the night’s findings in the morning. His Wei Ying knows him well, too well to let Lan Zhan win this game that they played sometimes.
Lan Zhan leans in quickly, as if he felt faint, letting Wei Ying rush in to meet him, only to sink his teeth into Wei Ying’s shoulder as revenge, clinging on childishly even as Wei Ying protests. He’s never pushed away, but Wei Ying keeps whining.
“Ow. Ow! Lan Zhan, it hurts! I won’t do it again, I promise!”
“Not true.” Lan Zhan answers, the texture of Wei Ying’s shirt still fresh against his teeth, and it’s not altogether pleasant, but Lan Zhan doesn’t say so as he straightens his back, “Wei Ying will do it again the next time he sees fit.”
“And Lan Zhan will bite him for it just like he always does.” Wei Ying pouts, his hand sliding off of Lan Zhan’s side to come up to his jaw, his thumb pressing into the apple of Lan Zhan’s cheek. “My Lan Zhan is so cruel to me, he treats me just like some kind of chew toy. He won’t even tell me about his bad dream because he wants to bite me even more.” Wei Ying’s other hand comes to cradle the back of Lan Zhan’s head, pulling him in until Lan Zhan has no choice but to go where he’s being led to. He doesn’t hide himself in Wei Ying’s shoulder, he merely rests his head against it and holds onto Wei Ying’s forearm tight enough to cause bruises of his own.
“Do you remember when you introduced me to your uncle and your grandmother?” Lan Zhan asks quietly, reaching hard for the softness of that memory.
“I remember,” Wei Ying says softly, combing through Lan Zhan’s hair while he thinks, “Bao-popo made you sleep in the barn because boyfriends aren’t allowed to sleep in the house, you thought Song-ge was joking when he told you about the rule.” Lan Zhan had met the Jiangs countless times when he’d first started dating Wei Ying, but it had felt huge when Wei Ying had told him that he was going to take him up his grandmother’s mountain.
Sleeping in the barn wouldn’t have been as awful, there’d been a narrow bed and blankets up there, but Wei Ying hadn’t given him the chance to sleep up there. “You snuck into the barn in the middle of the night and asked me to come with you,” Lan Zhan remembers, “you wanted me to look at the moon with you.”
“I packed a picnic basket,” Wei Ying defends himself quietly, his arms wrapping around Lan Zhan to hold him tighter. “The moon was so big that night, it looked like we could reach out and touch it.”
“Wei Ying told me he loved me for the first time that night.” Lan Zhan doesn’t have to try hard to put himself back into that moment, he doesn’t even have to close his eyes, he can still feel the chill coming off of the mountain’s summit, beaten back only by the body heat that he’d shared with Wei Ying. The wind had been blowing, but Wei Ying had still pressed himself against Lan Zhan’s back, uncaring if long, long hair blew into his mouth. And then the words came, the ghost of a whisper against Lan Zhan’s ear, but Lan Zhan had heard them as clear as day.
“And then you pushed me down so you could say it back,” Wei Ying chuckles, a grin spreading across his face in the darkness, “you said it back so many times after you had me on my back.”
“Shameless.” Lan Zhan scolds, a dark blush rising to his ears, but he doesn’t deny it. He’d lost control that night, endlessly grateful that Wei Ying had spread a blanket out on the ground below them. Saying it hadn’t been enough, he had to show Wei Ying, he had to make sure that Wei Ying knew his feelings were returned.
“I was shameless when you told me you loved me, Sweetheart. Why the sudden trip down memory lane?” It’s one of their many, many happy memories together, but Lan Zhan still hides himself against Wei Ying’s neck, breathing him in, just like he had that night. One of Lan Zhan’s hands slides up Wei Ying’s chest before it clings to his shoulder, his fingers digging in.
“Would Wei Ying ever take me back there?”
“To visit Bao-popo? Or to see our spot again?” Curiosity creeps into Wei Ying’s voice, his hand slowing though he continues to stroke through Lan Zhan’s hair.
“Mn.” Lan Zhan answers, nuzzling his nose against Wei Ying’s throat, “Wei Ying seemed relaxed there.” They’d both been relaxed there, even if they’d ended up helping Wei Ying’s grandmother with chores and upkeep of the house. It had felt as if they’d run away together, somewhere where no one and nothing could reach them.
Not like where they are now, never like this house.
“We might get to take an actual vacation if we go there, I don’t think any ghosts would dare try anything with my grandmother.” Wei Ying kisses his temple as he jokes, but Lan Zhan knows it to be true. Before Wei Ying’s grandmother had retired, she’d been revered in their field, no ghosts, demons, or yao would dare haunt her home.
It sounds idyllic, Lan Zhan nearly asks him why they can’t just leave now, it isn’t as if Lan Zhan doesn’t know about Wei Ying’s dreams for their retirement. His Wei Ying dreams of a life in some far away, unheard of town where they can build their own house and grow their own food. That, too, had been whispered to Lan Zhan once, though Wei Ying had been drunk and happy when he’d babbled everything into Lan Zhan’s ear. Lan Zhan knew that he meant it, he knew how much he wanted it.
Lan Zhan also knows why they cannot have it yet, why they can’t leave this house until they’ve put the spirits to rest. He’d offered their help, and he can't go back on it the second he wakes up, even if looking up into Wei Ying’s eyes makes him want to do nothing but.
“Wei Ying, in my dream, the house was on fire, and I could not find you.” Lan Zhan starts slowly, clenching and relaxing his fingers in Wei Ying’s shirt. His throat still aches from the smoke, and all the talking hadn’t helped, “I couldn’t move, but Wen Qing’s brother came to find me.”
“Wen Ning, right?” Wei Ying asks, rubbing wide, calming circles into Lan Zhan’s back with his fingertips and Lan Zhan nods, pushing past the heavy feeling behind his eyes.
“Wen Ning thinks that his sister is dreaming because she was buried with an acupuncture needle between her eyes, he says that she slept through the fire because of it.” Wei Ying’s hand stills for a long moment and tension sets into his shoulders, though it’s not enough to make him uncomfortable to lay against.
“Do you think he was telling you the truth?” Wei Ying asks, his hand drawing into a fist against Lan Zhan’s back, “I’m not doubting you, Lan Zhan, I promise, but he doesn’t have a reason to tell us the truth, he could be messing around with us.”
“I do not think he was lying. I think he is being kept here by his sister, whether she means to or not.” Lan Zhan answers honestly, his hand bracing against Wei Ying’s chest. It isn’t uncommon for one spirit to trap another with or without intention, nor is it uncommon for one ghost to power another.
Around them, the house creaks around them, trying to settle as the tension slowly eases out of Wei Ying’s shoulders. Lan Zhan expects Wei Ying to say something, to make some sort of joke, but instead, all Wei Ying does is tilt himself backwards and pull Lan Zhan down on top of him, his fingers combing through Lan Zhan’s hair.
“You never had so much activity in your dreams until we came here, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying muses aloud, his eyes looking up at the ceiling, but all his attention is on Lan Zhan, “Why do you think it’s happening here?”
Silently, Lan Zhan shakes his head and presses his lips against Wei Ying’s collarbone. “Is your Empathy method like dreaming?” It’s something that Lan Zhan has wondered for a long time, but not something he’s ever thought about asking until now.
“Sort of.” Wei Ying answers at first, but then changes his mind with a furrow of his brow, “Not really. I mean it’s kind of like dreaming about a memory. When I’m doing an Empathy session, I see whatever the spirit sees, but I don’t have any control about what’s going on.” Lan Zhan doesn’t bite him again, but he does press his teeth against the crook of Wei Ying’s neck, half skin and half fabric in his mouth. The Empathy sessions were… worrisome to say the least, it would be easy for a spirit to possess Wei Ying’s body during such a session if Wei Ying wasn’t careful enough, and even if they had no desire to steal his body, they might still damage his mental state. More often than not, Lan Zhan refuses to leave Wei Ying’s side while he does the Empathy sessions.
“Do your dreams feel like that, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks the question carefully, lifting a lock of Lan Zhan’s hair to his lips and then kissing it softly.
Lan Zhan shakes his head in answer, more than willing to let Wei Ying do whatever he wants to his hair. Smoothing his hands against Wei Ying’s chest, Lan Zhan feels the corners of his lips pull downwards. Wei Ying’s heart beats proudly against his palms, announcing its presence.
“What are you thinking about?”
Wei Ying’s voice shouldn’t shock him as much as it does, but Lan Zhan still feels himself start, “I wonder if Miss Wen feels as though she has no control over what she believes to be a dream.” It’s upsetting enough when it happens in his own dreams, but if Wen Qing is frustrated with her dreams, then she’s been frustrated for a very, very long time.
“Did her brother tell you how to wake her up?” Wei Ying asks, curling one of his arms behind his own head while the other keeps stroking Lan Zhan’s hair.
Dawn is creeping into the living room slowly, spreading rosy fingers over the room and over their skin while Lan Zhan thinks about Wen Ning’s instructions. They’d been little more than theory, really, but Lan Zhan can see how they might work. Carefully, one hand slides up to press against Wei Ying’s pulse, just to feel it beating before he thinks hard about what to say next. They don’t often talk about what happened before they were together, that long, aching period of two years where Wei Ying would have sworn that Lan Zhan despised him like the rest of their small world.
“Can Wei Ying still determine where unmarked graves are?”
#wangxian#the untamed#mdzs#cql#mdzs fic#cql fic#the untamed fic#wei wuxian#lan wangji#wei ying#lan zhan#lwj#wwx#wen ning#wen qionglin#haunted house#modern with magic
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I posted 1,326 times in 2022
726 posts created (55%)
600 posts reblogged (45%)
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I tagged 864 of my posts in 2022
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#mdzs - 424 posts
#mo dao zu shi - 403 posts
#fanart - 95 posts
#svsss - 80 posts
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Longest Tag: 139 characters
#ship what you want just don't make it something it isn't and try to call it a romance of beauty and could ever work in any healthy capacity
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
( I have the very lovely @kimalysong to thank for encouraging me to post this bit of overthinking which I greatly appreciate!)
Now that we have a full line up of the EN release for the covers of the main story for MDZS, I was curious to discuss the running theme of them which consists of Wei Wuxian metaphorically looking towards his future (meaning Lan Wangji) throughout the art.
For reference, each of the covers:
See the full post
264 notes - Posted October 28, 2022
#4
MXTX fandom needs to stop having an obsession with making the straight dudes seem gayer than the actual protagonists.
Just saying, that washing of them (i.e Jiang Cheng, Feng Xin, Lan Xichen, Shen Jiu), to make them fanon gay and to prop them up over the canonical queer men, is highly disturbing on the English-base side of these takes.
You "making the work more gay" by doing this, is tone-deaf when you sweep away the leads just because you "don't like so and so" dynamic but slap that same thing on the straight men.
320 notes - Posted March 8, 2022
#3
Lan Wangji could probably be chewing on Lan Xichen's forearm as hard as possible and the guy would still be going "He's the greatest and cutest little brother ever right?" All while everyone else stares in horror.
366 notes - Posted October 19, 2022
#2
I will never get how some will read all the way through MDZS, get shown and told that all the lies based around Wei Wuxian were all untrue, and still tell themselves that Jiang Cheng was still wronged and his feelings are still "valid" by the end.
Jiang Cheng's feelings stopped being valid the moment he decided to be like his mother and choosing to hate people because that was easier than fixing the parts of him he disliked. It stopped being just a problem between his parents and him when he decided to use Wei Wuxian as a shield to name all of his wrongs to lash out against. You do not call someone just a support when you only use them as a scapegoat to say they are the reason for what you did not get in life. You do not call someone a friend or sibling and tell them they owe you for protecting them and then hold that protection over them as a price they have to buy into.
His story is tragic, but it stopped being empathetic when he dragged his projection of failings from just Wei Wuxian on to Lan Wangji and Wen Ning. He chose to project that his father and Wei Wuxian were playing favorites and always choosing someone else over him, when he himself did nothing to mature out of the angry sad child he had been. A child's feelings of being able to do nothing in the face of rocky parents fighting over control are valid. A grown man who continued to find a parental figure to rage against without ever bettering himself, is not.
Jiang Cheng got the ending he deserved because that was the effort he put into his bond with Wei Wuxian. You do not do the bare minimum and expect open arms after years of bitterness and hate that you created from your own insecurities and fed to the world. As an adult you do not continue to be hateful and expect unconditional love from the one you hurt constantly and belittle. Nor because you do one "good" action does it erase the pile of hate you put into the world and demand you are owed something from another. Forgiveness does not mean an opening to rekindle a relationship that is broken, it's just a door closing and sometimes it isn't ever going to be opened for you again.
You move on though and be yourself without excuses.
374 notes - Posted August 29, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Wei Wuxian thinks he's the bad boy in the relationship, and turns out it's Lan Wangji.
687 notes - Posted January 25, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Stars rise, moths flutter
part of ch1 of a oneshot/twoshot about wen qing and wen ning in the yiling supervisory office (technically part of a wider au but this is canon-compliant)
find it on ao3! ‘Things getting ready to happen, out of sight’ by big-time-tired (nilafhiosagam) link at the end!
One day around the middle of summer, A-Jie is summoned to visit Wen-zongzhu in Nightless City. She goes, of course. She always does.
Wen Ning is not left in charge whilst she's gone, to his own great relief. That task tends to be split between Popo and whichever one of Wen Ning's older cousins happens to be within her earshot when something needs doing.
Wen Ning does what he has always done when A-Jie is away; he makes sure nothing in the herb garden dies, practices his archery, and tries his best to keep out of the way.
The day A-Jie returns, Wen Ning is already on his knees in the dirt, pulling weeds and fretting over some of the more wilted-looking plants.
Wen Qing enters rooms like a tiger, Wen Ning has realised over the years; calm, quick, and inescapable. She enters gardens in much the same way; an elegant sweep of white and red against the parched landscape.
Before Wen Ning can do more than blink up at her from under his straw hat, summer sun blazing down mercilessly, A-Jie says, brisk, "A-Ning, we have to start packing."
"Packing, Jiejie?" asks Wen Ning, more than a little bit confused. (And worried, if he's honest. Trips away from home usually involve going to Nightless City and putting up with the main Wen family, and that is not something which has historically been especially pleasant for Wen Ning.)
"Yes!" A-Jie tosses back over her shoulder, not breaking stride.
Wen Ning kneels up on his knees, careful not to overbalance and accidentally crush the poor qinghao seedlings he's been trying to resuscitate for the last few days. It has been unusually dry this summer, and the qinghao haven't been taking it well.
"Where... where are we going?" he calls after his sister, who is already disappearing through their front door.
"Yiling!" A-Jie shouts back and then she's gone.
Wen Ning looks down at his poor qinghao, doubtful. "Yiling? Where's Yiling?"
The qinghao do not answer.
They leave home two days after A-Jie's return.
Wen Ning looks around their house and does not like how bare it is, how quiet and dark. It reminds him horribly of how it had looked when he and A-Jie had first moved in, freshly orphaned and struggling to find their way in a world which no longer had A-Niang or A-Die in it.
"We're... we're coming back, aren't we, Jiejie?" Wen Ning asks, quietly.
A-Jie shoves another stack of books into his arms. "Put those on the wagon too," she orders, already turning back around to scan her study one last time, eyes no doubt narrowed as if daring a scroll or letter to hide from her.
Wen Ning does not move. "Jiejie," he says again, just as quietly as before.
A-Jie sighs. "Yes, A-Ning. We will come back. This is our home, isn't it? This is our family. We're only going for a little while."
Wen Ning nods. "I hope we're home in time to... to meet tang-xiong's baby," he smiles.
A-Jie huffs, though when she turns to look at him, she's smiling too. "Me too, A-Ning."
They leave the village without much fanfare; more because A-Jie thinks making a huge to-do of their going would be foolish and a waste of time and energy than anything else.
Popo hugs Wen Ning tightly enough to make his ribs creak. "Be good for your sister, Ning'er," she tells him.
"I will Popo, I prom- promise," Wen Ning wheezes into her hair, before he's released with a pat to the cheek.
Wen Jing steps forward then, claps a hand on Wen Ning's shoulder. "Keep up with your archery, tang-di," he smiles. "You're a natural, but that will only take you so far."
Wen Ning nods enthusiastically, ears heating. "Yes... yes, tang-xiong. I will."
Cao Su, Wen Jing's wife, steps forward then to squeeze Wen Ning's hands gently. "Don't forget about us down in Hubei, A-Ning," she smiles. "Your baby cousin will want to meet you."
"I would never!" Wen Ning promises. "I'll... I'll be back before you know it!"
Cao Su pets his cheek and Wen Jing ruffles his hair. "You had better get going, A-Ning," Wen Jing says, nodding in A-Jie's direction. "Your sister looks like she's starting to get impatient."
Wen Ning nods. "I know better than to keep Jiejie waiting."
A-Jie sighs at the sight of him, when he trots over, and puts her hands on her hips. "Are you finally ready?"
"Yes, Jiejie," Wen Ning bows his head a little, contrite.
A-Jie huffs, before clambering up into the covered carriage Wen-zongzhu had sent for them. "Come on, A-Ning! We need to get going!"
"Y-yes, Jiejie!" Wen Ning jumps and climbs up to sit across from her.
The driver, a young man fresh from Nightless City, swings around on his seat enough to peek his head in through the window.
"Are you ready to depart, Wen-guniang, Wen-gongzi?"
A-Jie sniffs. "Yes. Now get to it; we're already late."
The driver nods. "Of course, Wen-guniang."
He disappears from view and Wen Ning hears the flick of his reins, the whinny of the two horses and all of a sudden the wheels are turning and the carriage lurches forward.
Wen Ning slides forward in his seat to cling to the windowsill, waves back to everyone just as enthusiastically as they are waving to him. His eyes sting a little bit as they get further away. By the time their home has entirely disappeared from view, his cheeks are damp.
Wen Ning sits back, hands in his lap, and blinks rapidly, trying to keep his sniffling to a minimum.
He isn't quite subtle enough however, because A-Jie looks up from her textbook to level him an unimpressed stare. "What are you crying about?"
"N-nothing," Wen Ning lies, swiping crossly at his cheeks.
A-Jie sighs, puts her book aside, and opens her arms. "Oh, come here."
Wen Ning takes the invitation and all but throws himself across the carriage to sniff sadly into his sister's shoulder.
"Honestly, A-Ning," A-Jie tuts, stroking his hair, "you're seventeen now. What's so heart-wrenching about leaving home at your age? You'll be back."
Despite her words, her tone is soft. For a moment, her voice nearly seems to catch.
Wen Ning starts to sit up. "A-Jie, are you--"
Wen Qing tugs him back into her embrace, face firmly squished where he cannot see her expression.
"Am I what?" A-Jie half-snaps. "Still letting you cry all over me at seventeen years of age, for some unknowable reason? Apparently so. Now shush."
She sniffs, very quietly. Wen Ning tightens his hold on his sister and says nothing about it.
It's the least he can do.
find the rest (and maybe more!) on ao3 here
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While Wen Xu is leading the army to attack Cloud Recesses, Wuxian is put to the test on how he’d psychologically demoralize the sect heirs.
This is really unpolished and might end up completely changed by the time it hits AO3, so do take everything with a grain of salt.
-
Wuxian and his cohort watched in silence as Wēn Xu led a third of all Wēn cultivators out of Nightless Sky. Everything leading up to this point had been a prelude, all the minor sects.
Wēn Ruohan wanted a war, and this, an all out attack on Cloud Recesses, was the start. The other Great sects would have to respond.
Shijie had managed to send Pinde-shixiong along with the army with Wēn Ruohan’s orders to seize the Lan library rather than burn it to the ground. They had all been working day and night since the order came to embroider enough high quality qiankun pouches for him. Wuxian was drained from all the spiritual thread he’d produced.
The army would take hours to disappear out of sight. He had no intention of standing there, watching.
Ꙭ
Morning lectures had been canceled for all but the youngest junior disciples.
Never before had Wuxian had this much unscheduled free time, if one could call it that.
Everyone was busy. Wen Ning was helping his sister stock the pharmacy. Shao-shijie was embroidering protections to all the cohort’s battle robes. Tui-shijie was always furiously rewriting shijie’s notes to a more readable form. Lingchang-shixiong was consulting with Jin-laoshi on various secret affairs Wuxian was sure regarded some of the unfortunate rumors he began hearing around Nightless Sky’s market. Shijie was running from one meeting to the next with barely any time to breath between.
A week after Wēn Xu’s departure, shijie called him to her tearoom.
She was tired and pale, but also fist-shakingly furious.
“Wēn Chao has been assigned to lead an indoctrination camp for the sect heirs and their nineteen disciples. I have managed to get the heirs for the afternoons. You will join Wēn Qing and Wén Zhuliu-xiong in supervising Wēn Chao and monitoring the sect heirs.”
Wuxian cocked his head. “Indoctrination camp? What would Wēn Chao have to teach the other sects’ heirs? He can barely differentiate a sword’s handle from its tip.”
“You are preaching to the choir,” shijie muttered and Wuxian pretended he didn’t hear. “Wēn Chao’s brilliant idea is to have the disciples read and recite the Quintessence of the Wēn in summer sun and then have them tire out by doing manual labor. All this after their swords have been confiscated, of course.” Wuxian nodded mockingly. Mocking Wēn Chao was too easy. “All of this while also leading them on night hunts, unarmed. If there is even one slightly cleverer than average disciple among them, they will escape when Chao-di inevitably screws up. Your Lan-er-gongzi is cleverer than average, so… But I managed to sway father to give me the afternoons. So here’s this lesson’s question. How do I destroy them with afternoons only, without resorting to physical violence? This is just a thought exercise for you, I already know what I’m going to do, but I want to know how you think it should be done.”
Lan Zhan’s face flashed in Wuxian’s mind, but he pushed it down. “Destroy how?”
“So that they are unable or unwilling to fight in the war.”
If they were left with Wēn Chao, they’d just grow resentful and fight all the harder once they escaped.
“First you have to create a rift between them and the other disciples, right? That’ll be easy, Wēn Chao will not let the other disciples eat or wash properly. A few days after the start, one of the disciples should “accidentally” see what the heirs were doing instead of manual labor. And they should be cosseted. Reading on soft pillows with tea within arm’s reach in a pleasantly cool room. Snacks and sweets too. And have them overhear some of our disciples comment enviously how easy they have it, like they are treated as part of our cohort.”
“That would require the disciples to know how cohorts work.”
Wuxian blinked. And tried to remember back to the Cloud Recesses lectures. Surely the other sects had some kind of system that was reminiscent of the Wēns’ cohorts? How else did they retain any talent that came outside the clan? They couldn’t all marry into the clan. Unless they were all harem masters.
But no, Lan Zhan, who was already late to start recruiting for his cohort, had no disciples. Wēn Ning had found his first disciple when they were thirteen, and by now had five disciples orbiting around him, a pair of orphaned siblings and three cousins for some degree. He couldn’t really afford all five, so they all worked at the pharmacy to supplement Wēn Ning’s earnings as a healer and junior archery instructor. Zewu-jun had no personal aid. Jin Zixuan had his retinue, but those were more assigned servants and retainers rather than chosen family. Jiang-gongzi wouldn’t have been so lonely if he’d had a cohort of his own. Nie-er-gongzi wouldn’t have been able to just skirt by during the lectures, he’d have had to impress his disciples, and Wuxian doubted questionable reading material would have been the way to go.
So, no. The other sects didn’t have anything in place of the cohort system.
“I suppose it would be too much to ask Wēn Chao to make the morning lectures at least a little useful and explain the cohort system to them?”
“I wouldn’t want him to explain it anyway. He’d probably make them think it was slavery,” shijie scoffed.
“Point. Where was I? Right! Not part of the cohort, how about likening them to favored disciples then?”
“Good enough analogy. Go on.”
“Okay. So. The heirs should not do anything physical. Even a few weeks of no physical training will weaken their muscles, right? Wen Ning said that’s why recovery after an illness is a long process. So they should only like, read and play board games. Maybe recite some poetry and appreciate nature. If we had them completely to ourselves, I’d suggest the isolation rooms, but they’re really only useful for longer periods.”
“Some of the seals from the isolation rooms can still be applied. After all, we wouldn’t want them to cultivate to retain their muscles.”
Wuxian nodded. “Right, right. Should they be applied to the heirs themselves or the rooms?”
“I’m not here for a brainstorming session, A-Ying, I’m here to see how well you apply your knowledge.”
“The heirs themselves then. Should impede an escape too. A collar? No, a cuff. On the ankle. So even the most flexible can’t slip it off.”
“Very good, A-Ying. What should they read and play?”
“Nothing strategic, so weiqi’s out. Yahtzee? Swords and slides*? Trivia games? Eh, good enough. As for reading… I dunno, romance? Porn? But at least Lan Zhan wouldn’t touch it.”
“Anything else?”
Wuxian thought hard. Nothing else came to mind. He shrugged.
“You forgot to apply the talents of the rest of your cohort. A-Wei suggested playing calming tunes while they slept, and A-Zhu suggested a mild relaxant in the incense. On the other hand, you were the first to suggest the cuff be on the ankle, so well done, A-Ying.”
Wuxian beamed, a little embarrassed. When presented with that kind of scenario he always forgot to include his cohort’s talents.
-
*Snakes and ladders adapted to cultivation setting
#mo dao zu shi#grand master of demonic cultivation#fanfic#wei wuxian#wen wuxian#wen xiachen#owe it all 'verse#ocs galore
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